




wm 






VvjSfrJia 













iT 

r 

jv 

i» •:» 

% 


^ *JK 



MMT 





















LIBRAKY OF CONGRESS. 


Shelf' 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 




















































. --i. 

J A ' 



* A 

iM >/L.^ I ..*jl W(J| ' LJ- I '•’.•nr 

■ ‘-v'-ri’^ 

. • r?.’i;'i^i^’^' “* .,,■' 'ijvi.v'iy 


, ■; >■, m mBt'* ■’t 

,.;; u.v5f..-.-<^/r;5v..v ■ •; .*’ V - 9% 




^ « • 

• A?-’ • 

1 ■'-• '^. 

■ 2; 

•i-K- , . 

* . h 

^ « A 1 .J 

^ < 






■ ^ i-* '* cl ^ i ' • • 







Winnie Lorimer’s Visit. Page 17 




WIfflIE LOEIMEE’S VISIT. 



CHARA B. CONANT. 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 



COPYRIGHT, 1890, 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 





CHAPTER I. 

Winnie’s Arrival 5 

CHAPTER II. 

Doubting Castle 36 

CHAPTER III. 

Sunshine and Clouds 62 

CHAPTER IV. 

Aunt Glory 94 

CHAPTER V. 

Extracts from Winnie’s Journal 127 

CHAPTER VI. 

Extracts from Corinne’s Journal 154 


CHAPTER VII. 


Winnie’s Caller 


178 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The Sword of the Spirit 204 

CHAPTER IX. 

Corinne’s Struggle 233 

CHAPTER X. 

The Struggle Ended 258 


Winnie Lorimer’s Visit. 


CHAPTER I. 

WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 

“For a whole year, did you say, mother? 
Have we actually got to have that girl with us 
for a whole year?” 

“So it seems,” replied Mrs. Markham, in a 
dry tone that showed she disliked the topic. 
“Your father fairly insists upon it, though she 
is likely to make him more miserable than she 
will any other member of the family.” 

“ How strange of father,” said Harriet Mark- 
ham. “ And,” she added, “ how very strange of 
Uncle Oscar to propose such a thing.” 

“Yes, it would have been a much more suita- 
ble arrangement to place her in some good 
boarding-school while he went abroad. How- 
ever, the matter is settled, and there is no use 
in discussing it any further.” 

“ Did you ever see her, mother?” 

“Yes, about twelve years ago, when she was 


6 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

a little girl of five or six. I suppose you know 
that she is your uncle’s step-daughter?” 

*‘Yes. She cannot be very well educated, 
brought up in that little country village. And 
oh, mother, do you suppose she is ‘ pious ’ ?” 

“ I presume so,” said Mrs. Markham, her lips 
curling with a sarcastic smile. Her mother 
was 'pious' — extremely so. But now, Harriet, 
I have this article to finish and must be left to 
myself for the rest of the morning. If any one 
calls, I am not to be disturbed, remember.” 

"Very well, mother,” said Harriet, rising. 
"Oh, dear! that 'piety’ is the crowning blow,” 
she broke forth with a sigh as she left the room. 

Mrs. Markham smiled again, this time with 
amusement at her daughter’s exclamation, and 
took up her pen. She was between forty-three 
and four, a tall, thin woman, straight as an ar- 
row. She was not handsome, but her face was 
a striking, intelligent one, and the brown, pier- 
cing eyes seemed to look you through. Her 
dress was a gray silk wrapper of handsome ma- 
terial, but made up with severe plainness, not a 
ruffle or a ribbon showing itself anywhere. She 
wore linen cuffs and a collar, however, and spot- 
lessly neat they were, while a cameo brooch con- 
fined her wrapper at the throat. Her glossy 
brown hair was brushed smoothly back from 
her forehead and wound in a coil behind, and 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


7 

this style she had adhered to for years, scorning 
any change of fashion. 

Mrs. Markham was well known by this time 
as a writer of considerable ability on scientific 
subjects. She had long ago renounced the reli- 
gious faith of her girlhood, and had brought up 
her children in the same skeptical ideas. Her 
husband, an impressionable, impulsive man who 
admired his wife intensely, had soon yielded to 
the influence of her stronger nature. Whether 
he was happy in his change of views will be 
shown further on. 

Mrs. Markham had written about half an 
hour when there was a light tap on the door. 
At her “ Come in !” somewhat impatiently ut- 
tered, a neat-looking colored girl entered the 
room. 

“ It ’s a telegram, ma’arn, so I thought I 
must bring it to you at once,” she said apolo- 
getically, as if deprecating Mrs. Markham’s 
displeasure. As she spoke she handed a brown 
envelope to her mistress. 

The frown on Mrs. Markham’s forehead 
deepened a little as she read the message. But 
it soon cleared away, and she said composedly, 

“ Carry this telegram to Miss Harriet, Linda, 
and tell her from me that she can attend to 
everything that is necessary. Mr. Markham 
and his daughter are coming this afternoon in- 


8 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


stead of to-morrow as they expected. Mr. 
Markham can have the spare room, and the 
young lady can sleep with Miss Corinne.” 

“Very well, ma’am,” said Linda as she left 
the room. 

Great was the indignation of both Harriet 
and Corinne when they read the telegram and 
heard the orders from their mother. 

“So like Uncle Oscar,” said Harriet, “to 
take such a sudden start and upset all our ar- 
rangements! I expected to spend the after- 
noon with Norma Fairchild.” 

“/ am most to be pitied, I think,” said Co- 
rinne. “ It is just too bad of mother to make me 
share my room with that girl ! I wonder if she 
expects me to do it all the time she is here.” 

“Oh, well, Corinne, I don’t really see how 
we could make any other arrangement. We 
have to keep the spare room for occasional vis- 
itors. And here is Winnie just about your age, 
and may be a very nice girl for all we know.” 

“ Oh, yes, it is very easy for you to be recon- 
ciled to the arrangement,” said Corinne crossly ; 
“ you do n’t have to sleep with her !” 

Tilting up her little head in a saucy fashion 
peculiar to her, she marched off rebelliously to 
her room to make some preparation for the un- 
welcome guest. As the sisters parted a boyish 
voice was heard from the stairway. 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


9 


“ Miss Harriet Martineau Markham ! may I 
have a word with your ladyship ?” 

“Yes, if you wont call me by that odious 
name !” replied Harriet sharply, yet unable to 
repress a smile. She was very fond of her 
brother Hilary. 

Miss Martineau was a very distinguished 
woman, ma’am,’’ said the boy solemnly, as he 
came to her side. 

“ I am aware of that fact, sir, and that is just 
the trouble. / am not likely to distinguish my- 
self in any way. How would you like,” fixing 
her eyes saucily upon him, “ to be called George 
Washington Markham?” 

“ I should cut down cherry-trees till they 
changed my name, in self-defence,” Hilary re- 
plied. “ But come. Hat, I want to ask a favor 
of you.” 

“What would mother say if she heard you 
call me ‘ Hat ’ ?” asked the girl, her eyes resting 
fondly on her brother. He was nearly nine- 
teen, a tall youngster, full five feet eight, and 
handsome as a picture. His brown hair curled 
tightly over his head ; he had a well-shaped, 
slightly aquiline nose, large, lustrous black eyes, 
and a clear olive complexion, with rosy cheeks. 

“Well, Harriet, then,” he answered his sis- 
ter, looking amused, but too chivalrously loyal 
to his mother to criticise any of her rules in 


10 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

her absence. I heard that you were going to 
spend the afternoon and take dinner at the 
Fairchilds’. Would you like your little brother 
to call for you this evening?” 

“Ah, Hilary, you have heard of Louise 
Rockwood’s arrival,” said Harriet mischiev- 
ously. “ But,” she added at once, “ I am sure 
you would have offered to call for me in any 
case. You are very nice to your sisters, Hilary. 
But, my dear boy, I am sorry to say that I shall 
not be able to go this afternoon.” 

“ And why not, pray?” asked Hilary, looking 
surprised. 

“ Oh, I am so vexed and disappointed that I 
don’t know what to do!” Harriet went on pet- 
tishly. “Just read that telegram from Uncle 
Oscar.” 

“But I don’t understand it,” said Hilary 
after he had glanced it over. “ ‘ Expect us to- 
night about six o’clock. I sail to-morrow.’ Ex- 
pect Its — why, who is with him ?” 

“Oh, I forgot that you had not heard. Un- 
cle Oscar proposed that his daughter should 
board with us during his absence (he is to be 
away a year at least), and attend school with 
Corinne. Father agreed to it at once, indeed 
fairly insists upon her coming, mother says. 
Just think what an affliction, Hilary,” Harriet 
went on, for though two years older than her 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. II 

brother, she was in the habit of talking with 
him more confidentially than with any one else, 
to have that awkward little country girl with 
us for a whole year ! And mother thinks she is 
‘ pious ’ into the bargain !” 

“ Yes, and if the ‘piety ’ is n’t laughed out of 
her before a week is over, I ’m mistaken !’*’ said 
Corinne, who came tripping up to them at that 
moment. “She wont find the atmosphere of 
this house very favorable to ‘ piety,’ I imagine.” 

“ I hope you ’ll be careful and not hurt her 
feelings, little sister,” said Hilary gravely. 
“ You must remember that she has been 
brought up in these ideas, and that it is as 
natural for her to be ‘ pious ’ as it is for you to 
be — ^well, the other way. And I must say that 
I should have very little respect for her if she 
allowed herself to be ‘ laughed out ’ of her opin- 
ions ‘before the week is over.’ ” 

Corinne tilted up her saucy chin again. She 
was seventeen and a half and had a very 
bright, attractive, piquant little face. Her 
reddish-brown hair did not curl as thickly as 
her brother’s, but was broken into soft ripples, 
while a few delicate sprays clustered around 
her temples and tiny ears. She had light-gray 
eyes over which the lids drooped a little, and 
this added to the archness of her expression. 
Her complexion was naturally pale, but very 


12 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


fair and clear, and her little figure was as pret- 
tily rounded as a Hebe’s. 

“For a boy that has so much fun in him, 
Hilary, you can talk more like a sober old 
grandfather than any young fellow I know! 
It ’s perfectly ridiculous ! I expect nothing but 
that you will turn ' pious ’ yourself and be sing- 
ing hymns with Winnie or escorting her to 
prayer-meeting in the course of a fortnight.” 

“ I expect to do nothing of the kind, Co- 
rinne. But I do intend to respect the poor girl’s 
opinions, and I hope you will be as considerate 
yourself. Think how lonely she will feel to 
come among us a perfect stranger and to have 
her father leave for Europe the very next day ! 
I am sure you are too kind-hearted to want to 
make her more unhappy, my dear Corinne !” 

Corinne was naturally kind-hearted, for all 
her wit and saucy ways, and could not help 
being touched by her brother’s gentle appeal. 
But she was too wilful to admit this, and only 
replied with another toss of her head, “ I shall 
make no promises, Mr. Hilary. Winnie Lori- 
mer may not be the gentle, helpless lamb you 
imagine, and if she ’s one of the ‘ canting,’ 
bigoted sort, determined to convert us all to 
her opinions, you may depend upon it this fam- 
ily will have to put her through a ‘ course of dis- 
cipline.’ After all, Hilary,” with a laugh, “ you 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


13 

are as great a tease as any one of us, only you 
have a knack of not offending people.” 

“Well,” said Harriet, who had stood silent 
during this discussion, “I trust you will lay 
Hilary’s advice so much to heart as this — that 
you wont attack poor Winnie’s opinions the first 
evening she is here. We shall soon find out 
what sort of a girl she is. But here comes 
Linda to put uncle’s room in order, and I must 
betake myself to the linen closet. Hilary,” 
with a smile, “ I presume you wont object to 
taking a note from me to Norma, this afternoon, 
explaining why I cannot come. Only you must 
be back before six o’clock, remember.” 

“ I shall be very glad to call there,” said her 
brother with an answering smile, “but I wish 
you could go with me, dear. Why can’t you? 
We could be at home again by five o’clock.” 

“Thank you, Hilary, but I don’t care to 
walk so far just for a call. I shall be much 
obliged to you if you will take the note for me, 
and if you are at home by a quarter of six it 
will be time enough.” 

The Markhams had but lately returned 
from their cottage in the country. Their city 
home was an unpretentious-looking brown stone 
house, situated in a quiet street, shaded here 
and there by tall trees. As Winnie Lorimer 


14 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


alighted from the carriage in which she had 
driven from the depot with her father, she 
glanced up at the house with rather a forlorn 
air and thought how like a prisoner she should 
feel with no garden to walk or run about in. 
But she was a brave-spirited little creature and 
uttered no word of repining. 

'‘Well, here we are,” said her step-father 
briskly, “and glad enough I am to be at the 
end of our journey. Bless me, here ’s Hilary ! 
Why, where did you start up from, my boy?” 

“ I went on an errand for Harriet this after- 
noon and have but just returned,” said his 
nephew. “ How are you. Uncle Oscar?” 

“First-rate — never better!” said his uncle, 
shaking hands with the boy. “How you have 
grown, Hilary ! I scarcely knew you ! And how 
is your father and all the rest of the family?” 

“They are all well, thank you. Is this my 
cousin Winnie?” 

“ Bless me, yes — I quite forgot her. Win- 
nie, this is your cousin Hilary, a great favorite 
of mine.” 

Hilary did not return the compliment, but 
said warmly, 

“ I am very glad to see you. Cousin Winnie, 
and hope you will be very happy with us.” 

Hilary’s cordial greeting was perfectly sin- 
cere, for he was fascinated, as most people were. 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


5 


by his cousin’s sweet little face. Winnie looked 
up with an answering smile, though a slight 
moisture gathered in her eyes as she replied, 

“Thank you very much. It makes me feel 
at home already to have such a cordial wel- 
come.” 

“Her eyes are as blue as forget-me-nots!” 
thought Hilary: “ What a lovely little creature ! 
And she looks as good and sweet as she is beau- 
tiful.” Then he glanced towards the driver, 
who w’as taking down her trunk. “ Come right 
in, uncle and cousin,” he said hastily. “ I have 
a key with me.” As he spoke he ran lightly up 
the steps and opened the door. 

“ I had my trunk sent right over to the 
steamer office,” said his uncle as they entered 
the house together. 

“ You sail to-morrow. Uncle Oscar?” 

“To-morrow, at three o’clock. I found yes- 
terday afternoon that I could get off sooner than 
I had expected, so hurried home and told Win- 
nie to pack her trunk and be ready for an early 
start this morning. She ’s a prompt little body, 
and found time not only for that, but to call 
on half the village before evening into the bar- 
gain. Well, Harriet, there you are. How do you 
do, my dear?” 

Winnie glanced at her cousin, and felt at 
once a little afraid of her. She was a tall, digni- 


l6 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

fied-looking girl, with a reserved manner, which,^ 
after all, was partly due to shyness. Only a few 
intimate friends, however, were apt to make this 
excuse for Harriet — other people thought her 
formal and haughty. 

Harriet’s uncle, however, felt perfectly at his 
ease with her, as indeed he would have done 
with an empress. After saluting her, he said, 
mindful of his duty this time, “And this is my 
little girl whom I am going to intrust to the 
kind keeping of your folks for a while. Winnie, 
this is your cousin Harriet.” 

Harriet kissed the young girl’s cheek and 
spoke a few polite words of greeting. She 
really felt very favorably impressed by her cous- 
in’s appearance, but as usual her manner was 
formal and demure. They went into the pleas- 
ant parlor, where in a moment Prof, and Mrs. 
Markham appeared, with their youngest daugh- 
ter. 

Corinne’s expression changed the minute she 
saw Winnie ; she threw her arm around her and 
gave her such a hearty kiss that it did the little 
country maiden’s very heart good. And as she 
did so she darted a quick glance at Hilary 
which telegraphed to the half-amused but de- 
lighted boy that she had at once fallen in love 
with their cousin. 

“ The pretty, pretty little creature,” she 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


17 


thought, “ she ’s like a fairy ! And she looks 
as innocent as a child. Oh, I ’m sure I shall be 
able to do anything I like with her.” 

Corinne, though half a year younger than 
her cousin, was as self-possessed and self-confi- 
dent as many a girl at twenty, and already in 
imagination she was doing her part towards 
“ forming Winnie’s mind ” and indoctrinating 
her with “ advanced” opinions. 

“ Well, Miss Pepper-box,” said her uncle, 
whom she had already greeted, “ I 'm glad you 
and Winnie are likely to be friends. She has a 
little too much sugar in her composition, and 
you a little too much spice. Now if you could 
be mixed up together — ” 

*‘We mean to be,” said Corinne, who still 
kept her arm around her cousin, “don’t we, 
Winnie? She is to be my room-mate, and I ’m 
sure we shall have lovely times together.” ' 

“ Suppose you take your ‘ room-mate ’ up 
stairs for a few minutes,” said her mother, in 
a grave voice that showed she was not alto- 
gether pleased. “ Your uncle and she must be 
very tired and very dusty after their long, hot 
ride in the cars. Hilary, show your uncle to 
his room. The dinner bell will ring in a quarter 
of an hour.” 

“ We ’ll both be down there on time,” replied 
Mr. Markham cheerily. “ Winnie is like me 


Wiiitiia I.orinie; ’8 Visit. 


2 


1 8 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

in two respects at least — she ’s quick as a flash, 
and prompt to the minute.” 

“ Well, I ’m never late, except on Sunday 
mornings,” said Corinne, and, with her cousin 
still under her wing, -she flew with her up two 
pairs of stairs into a large, pleasant chamber 
fronting east. 

“ This is oiir room,” she said, as they entered 
it together. “ I like it because I always have the 
morning sun here.” 

“ It’s a lovely room,” said Winnie, glancing 
around her with innocent pleasure. Then she 
turned and gave her cousin the warmest of 
embraces. “ How good, how kind you are to 
me, Corinne !” she said. “ It seems as if I had 
found a sister.” 

“ Yes, I think we shall be very fond of each 
other,” said Corinne, delighted as any child 
would be over a new plaything. But .now, 
my dear, I must hurry you, for the bell will 
ring in fifteen minutes, you know.” 

“ I shall be ready,” Winnie replied. How 
refreshing this cold water feels!” she added, 
dashing it over her face and neck and into her 
ears, the tiniest ears, smaller and prettier than 
even Corinne’s. As she left the washstand 
and came to the dressing-table, she looked love- 
lier than ever, like a pink and white rose freshly 
washed by a shower. Corinne looked at her a 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


19 

moment, then taking the sweet face in both 
hands, she playfully pretended to crush it. 

“You little apple-blossom!” she said affec- 
tionately. “ Do you know you are going to be 
my baby, and you ’ll have to mind your little 
mother, I can tell you ! Now don’t look scared, 
for you ’ll get a deal of petting from me, if you 
are good. Here, put on this dressing sack of 
mine while you do up your ‘ golden hair.’ ” 

Winnie obeyed, but said demurely as she did 
so, “ I ’m a pretty big baby for you, a whole half 
year older than you. And,” she added playfully, 
“ how do you know but I may want to have my 
own way sometimes, like other folks ?” 

“ No, you like to mind — I see it in your face,” 
persisted Corinne in her whimsical way. “ And 
as I just love to rule, we shall get on beautifully 
together.” 

Winnie could not help smiling, but she felt a 
little annoyed, nevertheless, and went on doing 
up her hair in silence. 

“ There, now, I ’ve frightened the little dear 1” 
thought Corinne, somewhat vexed with herself. 
“ What a hand I am to blurt everything out the 
first minute ! But,” she considered, for she was 
not much given to self-criticism, “it’s just as 
well to have an understanding from the begin- 
ning. Where two people are to be constant com- 
panions for a year, the weaker nature must yield 


20 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

to the stronger, and Winnie ’s a perfect baby, I 
can see. She ’ll have to mind me and learn to 
submit to my judgment, or I shall be sure to 
make her life miserable and my own into the 
bargain.” 

“ Shall I get a dress out of your trunk, dear, 
while you are doing up your hair?” she asked in 
her kindest tone. 

“ Thank you very much, but I am just ready,” 
said Winnie, laying down her brush and comb. 

You shall tell me what to put on,” she con- 
tinued smilingly, as she came to Corinne’s side. 

Nothing could have suited that young damsel 
better, and in a twinkling the trunk was opened, 
and the two girls began to take out its contents 
and lay them carefully upon the bed. 

“O Winnie, wear this white nun’s veiling,” 
exclaimed Corinne, eagerly holding it up to 
view. “ It must be so becoming to you.” 

Winnie eyed it doubtfully. “ That ’s my best 
summer dress,” she replied. I only wear it 
Sundays to church, and when we have company. 
And I would like to keep it nice, Corinne.” 

Corinne lifted her eyebrows scornfully. “ You 
^wear it to church Sundays,’ eh? Do you feel 
particularly ^ pious ’ when you have it on ?” Then 
seeing Winnie’s cheek flush and her lip begin 
to quiver, she sprang at her in her impetuous 
fashion and kissed her. “Now don’t begin to 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


21 


cry, you dear, foolish baby you! I ought to 
have remembered how you have been brought 
up. But it does sound so queer to people of 
advanced views” — the lofty air with which she 
said this is indescribable — “ that antiquated talk 
about ‘ Sundays ’ and ‘ church ’ !” 

Winnie’s eyes were swimming, her cheek 
still hotly flushed, and she could not trust her- 
self to speak. She went to the bed and took 
from it a pretty white lawn. 

“ Yes, wear that with this green sash, and you 
will look like a little fairy,” said Corinne, anx- 
ious to bring back the smiles to her cousin’s 
sweet face. “ Who painted these lilies of the val- 
ley ?” she added, holding up one end of the sash. 

/ did,” replied Winnie, who was hastily 
putting on her dress. 

“ Why, you painted them very prettily, Win- 
nie. Have you ever had any lessons?” 

“ A few from my friend Sophie Chesnut- 
wood.” 

“ Sophie Chesnutwood ? Who is she?” asked 
Corinne, stifling a jealous pang. “But you shall 
tell me another time — in five minutes the bell 
will ring. Let me tie your sash for you.” As 
she did so in her own dainty fashion, she said 
kindly, “I have taken lessons in painting for 
over a year, and shall be very glad to teach you 
all I know.” 


22 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


Thank you very much,” replied Winnie, 
trying to smile. But her voice was still tremu- 
lous, and she had to wink the tears back from 
her blue eyes again and again. Corinne noticed 
this, and wished with all her heart that she 
could recall her sneering words of a moment 
before. 

'‘She can’t stand sarcasm, poor little soul!” 
she thought. “ I wont try it again unless she ’s 
very provoking.” “ How prettily your dress fits, 
Winnie,” she exclaimed, anxious to divert her 
cousin’s thoughts. “ You must have a very nice 
dressmaker in Briarville.” 

“ I made it myself, Corinne. In fact I make 
nearly all my own dresses,” Winnie replied. 

“ Indeed 1” said her cousin in surprise. “ What 
skilful little fingers yours must be. But there ’s 
Harriet calling me. Will you come down with 
me now, Winnie ?” 

“I’ll come in a minute, as soon as the bell 
rings,” her cousin replied. 

“ Very well — you ’ll find me in the parlor,” 
said Corinne, and was gone like a flash. 

The minute she had left the room, Winnie 
went to the bed, and kneeling down, buried her 
face in her hands. She felt she had need to 
pray for strength, poor little soul, for trials and 
temptations -Were likely to beset her here that 
she had never encountered before. 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


23 


The bell rang, and she rose from her knees 
looking calmer and brighter even for that brief 
moment of prayer. She found Corinne waiting 
for her at the foot of the front stairs. 

Oh, you tiny creature !” she said, looking 
up at Winnie as she came tripping down. “ I am 
not tall myself, but you seem like a fairy beside 
me. Let me see if I can lift you.” 

“No, no, you may hurt yourself,” exclaimed 
Winnie; but Corinne, not heeding, caught her 
in her strong young arms when she was two 
steps from the bottom, and laughingly carried 
her as far as the dining-room door. 

“ Why, you are no weight at all,” she said, 
setting her gently down. “What do you live 
on. Fairy ? rose leaves and honey dew?” 

“Not at all,” replied Winnie in the same 
tone. “ And if that ’s your idea of what I re- 
quire, I ’d rather you would not order my dinner 
for me, especially to-night,” she added, laughing, 
“ when I ’m so hungry after my journey.” 

In high good-humor they entered the large, 
pleasant dining-room where the family were 
gathered at the table. 

“Aha, there comes Queen Titania again,” 
said Prof. Markham, looking around, “ with elf- 
ish Puck for an attendant.” 

“ Thank you, father,” said Corinne saucily. 

“ Winnie narrowly escaped being a dwarf,” 


24 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

said Oscar Markliam with his usual tact and 
delicacy, as the girls took the places Mrs. Mark- 
ham pointed out. “ I really used to be ashamed 
to introduce her as my daughter, and thought of 
offering her to Barnum as a worthy successor to 
Lavinia Warren. But she has grown several 
inches since then, I am thankful to say.” 

Prof. Markham saw Winnie’s sensitive little 
face flush at these words, and said in a playful 
tone that conveyed a reproof, “ Next time you 
think of giving away your sweet little daughter, 
remember you have relatives who would gladly 
take her off your hands.” As he spoke he 
glanced at Mrs. Markham, who looked a little 
annoyed, and said hastily, “ I would n’t, even in 
joke, speak as if Oscar were capable of parting 
with his daughter.” Then changing the subject 
abruptly, she began to ask her brother-in-law 
about his proposed trip to Europe. 

“ I presume it will end in my settling there 
altogether,” said Mr. Markham. “Cousin Ed- 
ward has been urging me to come for the last 
three months ; and if he is pleased with my bus- 
iness capacities, and I see no reason why he 
should not be, he will make it to my advantage 
to stay.” 

“ It seemed almost a pity, though, for you to 
give up your position in the Briarville Bank,” 
said his brother. “ You had a good place there, 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


25 


and quite a comfortable little income, and you 
are exchanging it for an uncertainty.” 

“ Excuse me,” said his brother, interrupting 
him with some impatience. “ I do n’t think you 
understand the case, Everard. I could not have 
borne it to stagnate for the rest of my days in 
Briarville, and have been on the lookout for 
some time for a chance to get into another bus- 
iness. Cousin Edward’s is a splendid house, as 
you know, and I shall receive a better salary 
there as clerk than I did as cashier in the Briar- 
ville Bank. Then if I please Cousin Edward 
(and I shall take the greatest pains to do so, I 
assure you) there is every chance of promotion. 
Who knows,” he added gleefully, “but they may 
make me one of the firm before three years are 
over ?” 

Prof, and Mrs. Markham glanced at each 
other with a half-mournful, half-mirthful ex- 
pression in their eyes. Oscar Markham had 
long been the bete noir of his family. Hand- 
some, good-humored, a man of correct habits and 
of considerable business talents, he yet possessed 
an unhappy restlessness of temperament that 
prompted him continually to seek a new posi- 
tion. His family had treated him with great pa- 
tience and kindness, and it was largely through 
the influence of his brother Everard that he had 
obtained the position of cashier in the Briarville 


26 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Bank six years before. In this pretty village he 
had met Mrs. Lorimer, a young widow, whose 
sweet face had attracted him at once. She re- 
turned his affection, and after a time they were 
married. Two years after she died, commending 
to him with her last breath her daughter, then a 
lovely girl of fifteen. 

Good-humored as he was by nature, Oscar 
Markham was yet a very selfish man, thought- 
less of others and incapable of any deep affec- 
tion except for himself. His poor little wife 
could not long be blind to his defects, but she 
uttered no word of complaint, and prayed for 
him and loved him to the end of her life. He 
was as fond of her as such a selfish man could 
be, and was fully resolved to “do his duty” by 
the daughter she had committed to his fatherly 
care. His idea of that “ duty,” however, was 
what might have been expected from a man 
of his character. 

His little wife had been a most devout and 
lovely Christian. She was singularly modest 
and unobtrusive, and reminded you of a pure 
white flower shrinking from notice behind its 
veiling leaves. But the fragrance of her beauti- 
ful life could not be hidden. She was greatly 
beloved in the village and in the church of 
which she was a member, and when she died 
there were many to mourn her loss. 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


27 


It was a great joy to this sweet woman when 
her dear little daughter whom she cherished so 
tenderly began early to unfold her heart to 
the Saviour’s love like a bud opening to the 
sunshine. How tenderly she watched over her, 
how she taught her to go to Christ as to her best 
h'riend, and confide to him all her childish wants 
and sorrows. And how devoutly she prayed 
that the Good Shepherd would lead her lamb in 
green pastures and by the side of still waters, 
and shelter her in his bosom if the tempest 
came. 

The cloud of sorrow was approaching more 
swiftly than the mother dreamed of. One 
bright, sunshiny winter’s day she was stricken 
down with sudden illness, and after a few hours 
of acute suffering her gentle spirit passed away. 

In the solemn, mysterious hour of parting 
she found courage to speak to her husband as 
she had never spoken before. For years he had 
professed to be a disciple of the Master, and had 
joined by letter the church of which his wife was 
a member. But alas, the good seed had never 
really taken root in his heart, and though he at 
times felt misgivings, his superficial, self-confi- 
dent way of looking at things caused him quick- 
ly to banish such thoughts from his mind. His 
poor wife could not be so blind, and she was 
forced to ask herself why he seldom cared to go 


28 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

to the house of God with her, why he so often 
pleaded weariness as his excuse, and spent the 
blessed Sabbath hours in reading newspapers or 
the latest novel. Then the light, jesting way in 
which he spoke of sacred things often filled her 
with sorrow. Her natural timidity, her fear of 
doing more harm than good, kept her from 
speaking to him on the subject, but she prayed 
for him in secret with bitter tears, as for a wan- 
derer from the fold over whom the Good Shep- 
herd was yearning. 

But the time came when a few hours must 
part them, perhaps for ever! As Oscar Mark- 
ham sat by his wife’s bedside, clasping her cold 
hand, as he looked into the dark, sunken eyes 
that sought his with such pleading, mournful 
affection, and listened to the words she faintly 
whispered in his ear, his heart was shaken with- 
in him as it never had been before. He was not 
of an emotional nature, but tears choked his 
voice as he promised the dying woman that by 
God’s help he would become what she had 
prayed he might be, and that he would watch 
over the young girl she had committed to his 
care and guide and direct her as a Christian 
father should. Agnes listened and believed him, 
and her anxious, loving heart was at peace. An 
hour later all was over. The last act of the mo- 
ther’s life was to put the hand of her sobbing 


WINNIE'S ARRIVAL. 


29 


child into her husband’s, fixing her loving eyes 
once more upon him^, as if to remind him of his 
promise. Then the eyelids closed and she sank 
into a gentle slumber, in which her sweet spirit 
passed away. 

How long was Oscar Markham mindful of 
the promise that he had given to his dying wife ? 
For a few days he felt stupefied, half crushed by 
grief and remorse. Agnes’ dying look haunted 
him, and though he shunned any conversation 
with his pastor, he made spasmodic efforts to 
pray, to examine his own heart, and to conse- 
crate his life anew to Christ, as she had prayed 
that he might do. But alas ! the old wayward, 
pleasure-loving nature was struggling to assert 
itself. Oscar soon began to question in his own 
mind whether his wife had done him justice — 
whether she had not been somewhat morbid in 
her religious life, sweet soul though she was. 
There were in him no genuine aspirations after 
a noble Christian manhood, and he turned al- 
most fiercely upon the gloomy thoughts that 
haunted him. He should go mad, he said to 
himself, if he indulged in them longer ; he 
would throw them off as a man throws off a 
nightmare that is weighing him down. As for 
leading a Christian life like Agnes’, for instance, 
it was useless for him to think of such a thing. 
That was all very well for saintly women like 


30 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

her, but he was a man, obliged to make his way 
in the world, and who wanted to enjoy a good 
share of the world’s pleasures as well. 

Of course he meant to attend church more 
regularly, and his daily Bible-reading and prayer 
were duties that must no longer be neglected. 
Perhaps he might even take a class in Sunday- 
school after a while. And when he reflected 
how wearisome all these “duties” were to him, 
he felt quite self-complacent, and as if he really 
would deserve more credit for his self-denying 
exertions than “your saintly people” — to use his 
own phrase — to whom they were a pleasure. 

Thus Oscar quieted his conscience and be- 
came for a time quite a regular attendant upon 
the services of the church. And he would have 
required of Winnie that she should do the same 
only the dear girl needed no urging, but went 
to her church and her Sunday-school as eagerly 
as a bird flies to its nest. But ah! how she 
missed the sweet, bright face of her mother in 
the pew beside her, and how lonely their vine- 
wreathed cottage seemed without that gentle 
presence ! How she missed their Sabbath even- 
ing talks, when they sat together at the twi- 
light hour and Winnie listened to words of 
counsel from those dear lips, or mingled her 
voice with her mother’s in singing the hymns 
they both loved so well. Was there an hour 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


31 


when she did not miss her, poor child ? Of her 
step-father she saw little, for he spent a large 
proportion of his evenings away from home, 
leaving his daughter to the society of Janet, 
their faithful old servant, who made many se- 
vere reflections to herself upon her master’s 
conduct. And when he occasionally remained 
at home he appeared so engaged in his news- 
paper or his accounts that Winnie seldom ven- 
tured to interrupt him. In truth, she was a 
good deal afraid of her step-father, though he 
rarely spoke a harsh word to her. But he had 
a habit of addressing the child or listening to 
her remarks (though at times he ignored them 
altogether) in a half -good -humored, half -con- 
temptuous way that made her timid and awk- 
ward in his presence. She felt instinctively 
that he thought her an insipid little thing, not 
at all a suitable companion for him, and this 
feeling added bitterness to her grief for the loss 
of her mother. 

Poor little loving-hearted girl so early be- 
reaved ! What a mercy it was that in the days 
of her childhood she had given her heart to the 
Saviour and had learned to confide in him as 
her best and dearest Friend! Now in her 
great sorrow she clung to Him more closely 
than ever. The mother -love in the heart of 
Christ revealed itself more and more to her as 


32 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

the days went on ; and ah ! how sweet was the 
consolation it brought. Little did her young 
cousin dream how strong and tender, as well as 
childlike, was the faith she hoped to shake by a 
few words. 

It was a sorrowful day for Winnie when she 
was called upon to leave Briarville, her dear 
birthplace, to spend a year with relatives who 
were strangers to her and who, as she well 
knew, had no faith in. the things she held most 
sacred. And she had to part with so many 
friends outside as well as within the church 
she loved so dearly. Her lovely character, her 
artless, winning ways, had made her a general 
favorite, and great was the mourning at her de- 
parture. 

Winnie said little to her father about her 
feelings, for she knew that she could expect no 
sympathy from him. Indeed, he openly and 
loudly expressed his joy at leaving Briarville 
and hoped devoutly that he should never see 
the “stupid, hum-drum place ” again. He drew 
a bright picture of his brother’s home for Win- 
nie’s benefit, warning her in the same breath 
not to obtrude her religious views upon her 
relatives. “For they wont stand that sort of 
thing, you know,” he added, nodding his head 
sagaciously. “ Of course they will respect your 
opinions, and I shall expect you, Winnie, to 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 


33 


attend church and Sunday-school as regularly 
as you have here. I shall speak to your uncle 
about it before I leave. He ’s very thought- 
ful and considerate, my brother Everard ; and 
though I ’m sorry to say he has fallen more or 
less into his wife’s way of thinking, yet he’ll 
respect your mother’s wishes and mine in this 
matter, I ’m sure, and see that they are carried 
out.” 

“ Thank you, father,” said Winnie, in a voice 
that faltered a little, and Mr. Markham relapsed 
into his newspaper, well satisfied with himself 
and never reflecting what a wretched example 
he had set his daughter during the last year: 
He had again become very irregular in his at- 
tendance at church, and had quite worn out the 
patience of the long-suffering superintendent of 
the Sunday-school by his frequent absences 
from his class. His resignation had at last been 
politely requested, and Mr. Markham complied 
with apparent good-humor. He really felt re- 
lieved to have those “troublesome imps,” as he 
kindly termed them to a friend, taken off his 
hands, yet was somewhat nettled by the super- 
intendent’s action and felt an increased irrita- 
tion at the church. 

But we must return to the dining-room at 
the Markhams’. The husband and wife ex- 
changed that peculiar glance we have men- 
3 


Winnie Lorlmei’s Visit. 


34 WINNIE LORIxMER’S VISIT. 

tioned, and then Prof. Markham said good- 
humoredly, “Well, Oscar, you are certainly old 
enough to manage your own affairs, and I trust 
your brilliant visions may be realized. You 
shall tell me more by-and-by when we have that 
cosey chat together in my study.” 

Oscar Markham nodded assent, and then said, 
glancing around the table, “ But where is Con- 
rad, and where is Mary Somerville, my dear 
star-gazing niece ?” 

“Conrad and Mary,” said Mrs. Markham, 

“ are dining at the Fords’. They made the en- 
gagement a week ago and could not break it 
very well, but they will come home early in 
the evening.” 

“ Mary gone out to dinner ! Why, I thought 
she abhorred that sort of thing!” exclaimed her 
brother-in-law. 

“ She does generally, but she expects to see 
some very pleasant people there. Prof. Sand- 
stone, for instance, quite a noted geologist, 
whom she has long been anxious to meet.” 

“ Ah, yes, I remember now that Mary is in- 
terested in the rocks as well as in the stars. 
But is Conrad interested in geology, too?” 

“No, but he and Mary have been intimate 
there for years, you know.” 

Mr. Markham made a playful allusion to - 
some other suspected attraction there, while 


WINNIE’S ARRIVAL. 35 

Winnie looked with bright, amused eyes at 
her uncle. She already loved him ; he seemed 
so kind and affectionate, so considerate and 
thoughtful of others. He was not handsome 
like his brother Oscar, and there was little 
family likeness between them. Prof. Mark- 
ham, with his black hair plentifully sprin- 
kled with gray, his dark eyes — in which for all 
their humor a melancholy shadow seemed to 
lurk — and his mobile, sensitive mouth, formed 
quite a contrast to his fair-complexioned, au- 
burn-haired brother, with his prominent bright 
blue eyes and alert, self-satisfied air. Prof. 
Markham was full sixteen years older than 
his brother, who was thirty-eight, but looked 
much younger than his age. 

Winnie sat between Hilary and Corinne, and 
the boy was very kind and attentive, not only to 
his cousin but to his sister. Winnie fancied 
that he and his father must be very much alike, 
and felt instinctively that these two would be 
her favorites of the family. For though she 
liked Corinne, she felt a little afraid of her 
sharp speeches and tyrannical ways. 


36 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


CHAPTER II. 

DOUBTING CASTLE. 

Dinner over, all went into the large pleasant 
parlor. Winnie liked the looks of the room 
very much. On each side of the fireplace were 
two high rows of book-shelves well filled with 
attractive-looking volumes. Opposite, near the 
window, stood an upright piano, and in an al- 
cove a small cabinet organ. There were statu- 
ettes and vases here and there, and fine engra- 
vings and two or three choice paintings hung 
upon the walls. The furniture was handsome, 
yet not so elegant as to make yon afraid to use 
it. Altogether, the room looked very cheery, as 
if people lived and took solid comfort there. 

After a few minutes Mr. Markham went 
with his brother into the study, and Mrs. Mark- 
ham called Winnie to her side. The little girl 
felt almost afraid of those searching brown eyes, 
but she answered in her usual artless way and 
her aunt was evidently pleased with her. Soon 
callers dropped in, as they did nearly every 
evening at that house, and the conversation be- 
came general. Winnie noticed that her aunt 
seemed a kind of queen among her friends, and 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


37 


that even the most intimate ones treated her 
with deference. Harriet, who was well ac- 
quainted with these callers and who was a very 
cultivated, interesting girl, forgot to be shy and 
joined in the talk with great animation. Co- 
rinne was such a bright, original little piece that 
people liked to hear her talk, though her sarcas- 
tic speeches sometimes gave offence. As for 
Hilary, he was a favorite with everybody; to 
know the boy was to love him. 

Winnie was such a modest, retiring little 
creature that she would never have dreamed of 
putting herself forward like that young witch, 
Corinne. But she took a seat just outside the 
circle surrounding her aunt’s chair and listened 
with great interest to the conversation. Soon, 
however, her sensitive little face began to flush 
and pale by turns, a look of grief, almost of ter- 
ror, came into it, and rising she went into the 
dining-room adjoining. Books were plentiful 
there as in the parlor, and selecting one she sat 
down in a snug corner and tried to forget her 
agitation in its pages. But the tears kept rush- 
ing into her eyes and her heart beat violently. 

“ If he had said anything but that, anything 
but that, it would not have overcome me so !” 
she thought. “ But, oh, that was dreadful!” 

Winnie had stolen away so quietly that she 
hoped nobody had noticed her exit, and espe- 


38 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

dally as Hilary had gone up stairs in search of 
a book for his mother. She was mistaken, how- 
ever, in thinking she had escaped observation. 

“ But what then is the cause of the sudden 
flight of your charming little niece, Mrs. Mark- 
ham?” asked Dr. Friedmann, a good-natured 
looking German, who had been watching Win- 
nie’s face for the last minute or two. “ I trust we 
have said nothing to frighten her.” 

“Winnie has been brought up in the most 
bigoted puritanical ideas,” said Mrs. Markham, 
with some asperity, for her quick eye had 
marked with displeasure the young girl’s exit. 
“ Sit still, Corinne, and leave her to herself. She 
cannot expect that we shall adapt our conversa- 
tion to her.” 

“ May I ask how old she is ?” asked Dr. Fried- 
mann. He was about sixty himself, a fine-look- 
ing, portly giant of a man, whose good-humored, 
rosy face looked out from hair as white as snow. 

“ She is just eighteen, I believe.” 

“ Ah, well, she may outgrow those opinions,” 
said Dr. Friedmann comfortably, “and espe- 
cially in the liberal atmosphere of this house. 
At all events, she has a most lovely face, and a 
painter could make of her a sweet study for sl ' 
saint. Fancy her as a little golden-haired St. 
Catharine, for instance, or the Virgin Mary in 
her girlhood !” 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


39 


Winnie had been reading, or rather trying to 
read, for about ten minutes, when her father and 
Prof. Markham entered the room where she sat. 
Her father’s eye happened to fall upon her at 
once, and crossing the room immediately, he 
said in a harsher tone than he had ever used to 
her before, 

“What does all this mean? Why are you 
sulking here by yourself, and what are you 
whimpering about? Answer me directly !’’ 

Poor Winnie ! Though sensitive and full of 
feeling, she was naturally a bright, sunshiny 
little creature, with the sweetest temper in the 
world ; she was the last one to be accused of 
“ sulking.” Her father could not realize what a 
strain she had been through during the last two 
days, and how the parting from the friends she 
loved best in the world had affected her nerves. 
Corinne’s sarcasms and the sneering words she 
had listened to in the next room had set those 
nerves to quivering again, and now Mr. Mark- 
ham’s harsh question brought matters to a crisis. 
She flushed and paled as she looked at him ; 
then hiding her face in her hands she broke into 
weeping. 

“ Good gracious ! What shall I do with the 
girl ?” exclaimed her step-father, as he listened 
with intense irritation to the sobs she tried so 
hard to subdue. “I wish I had put her in a 


40 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

boarding-school, as I thought of doing at first, 
and I guess her relatives will wish so too ! No, 
you are not going to your room,” seizing her 
arm in his as she tried to escape. “You are 
going to stop your crying and come into the 
parlor with me. She ’s a silly little thing, Ever- 
ard,” turning to the professor, who had come to 
his side, ‘ ‘ but I never knew her to act like this 
before. Winnie !” squeezing her arm so severe- 
ly that he hurt her, “stop crying this minute !” 

“ You do n’t know in the least how to manage 
your little daughter,” said his brother in a low 
voice to him, as he came between them. “Just 
leave her to me. I will take her to my study 
and let her compose herself there. Please tell 
my wife that I will be with her directly.” 

“ Do what you like with the girl — you and 
Elizabeth will have entire control of her for a 
year,” said Oscar Markham rather sullenly. 
“But I warn you not to be too easy with her. I 
have been too indulgent myself by half — I see it 
now,” he added, as he turned on his heel and 
went to join the group in the parlor. 

Very gently Prof. Markham led his niece 
through a side-door into a room which he had 
himself chosen for his study. It was not a very 
capacious one, but it was lighted by a large, 
pleasant bay window, opening on to a little bal- 
cony, and had a most cheery, homelike look. A 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


41 


green baize-covered table stood near the win- 
dow, and on it was placed a student-lamp and 
the professor’s writing materials. There was a 
cosey fireplace on one side of the study, while a 
broad, inviting-looking lounge took up a great 
deal of room on the other. A row of shelves 
built into the wall was filled with books, and a 
fine engraving hung here and there. The win- 
dow stood partly open on this mild September 
evening, but a screen of mosquito-netting kept 
out the troublesome little intruders. 

'‘Uncle Everard” placed Winnie gently on 
the lounge and drew a light covering over her. 
“ There, now, lie still and rest yourself, little girl, 
till your old uncle is at leisure to come and put 
you in the comer,” he said in his whimsical way. 
Winnie, much comforted already, smiled at him 
through her tears, and the professor, giving her 
a fatherly kiss, went out, softly closing the door 
behind him. 

“ How good, how kind, how like a father he 
is !” thought the young girl as she lay there, her 
pale cheek resting on the silken cushion he had 
placed beneath her head. For a while her eyes 
wandered dreamily about the room, then the 
delicate lids closed, and wearied out with the 
fatigue and excitement of the last two days, 
Winnie fell fast asleep. 

How long she slept she never knew, probably 


42 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

an hour or more. Ere fully awake she became 
conscious of a purring sound close at her ear. 
The next moment something soft and furry 
glided across her cheek. She started up in af- 
fright, and a splendid Maltese cat sprang to the 
floor, and after regarding her for a moment, 
turned with an air of offended dignity and 
walked back to his place on the rug before the 
fireplace. 

“ It must have been his paw I felt on my 
cheek,” said Winnie, laughing. ‘‘Oh, pussy, 
what a fright you gave me !” she added, as she 
rose and went round to him. “ Come let us be 
friends! I am sorry I hurt your feelings,” and 
the little soft hand gently stroked pussy’s velvet 
head and back till he lost his sullen air and 
began to blink his eyes and purr loudly with 
satisfaction. 

“ What a splendid great creature !” said Win- 
nie, looking at him in admiration. He was a 
pure Maltese, one of the handsomest of his kind. 
His neck was decorated with a smart pink bow, 
on the ends of which were painted a tiny spray 
of catnip and the word “Muff” in ornamental 
letters. 

“Corinne’s work, I imagine,” said Winnie, 
smiling. “ Well, Mr. Muff, I am most happy to 
make your acquaintance.” 

At this moment the door opened so softly 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


43 


that Winnie heard nothing. The professor stood 
a moment, smiling kindly at the picture before 
him. 

“ So you and Muff have struck up a friend- 
ship already,” he said as he came round to them. 
Winnie gave a little start of surprise, but looked 
up smiling. 

“ He waked me up, uncle, a few minutes ago. 
I heard a sound in my sleep like a cat purring, 
and then something soft moved across my cheek. 
It must have been Muff’s paw, for when I started 
up in fright, he jumped to the floor and walked 
off looking highly offended,” said Winnie, laugh- 
ing at the recollection. 

“ Muff is a lordly, dignified creature, and ex- 
pects his friendly overtures to be received with 
the deepest respect and gratitude,” returned the 
professor, looking down amused at his little 
niece. ‘‘Your unconscious repulse evidently 
shocked him very much.” 

“ Well, I apologized, and he seems to have 
forgiven me,” said Winnie in the same playful 
tone, “ have n’t you, kitty ?” 

“Yes, you seem in high favor with him 
now,” replied the professor, as he sank into the 
revolving arm-chair that always stood by his 
writing-table. Muff immediately deserted Win- 
nie and going round to his master, jumped into 
his lap. 


44 WINNIE lorimer’s visit. 

“Well, now, that’s hardly courteous of you, 
Muff, to leave so abruptly a young lady who was 
paying you such flattering attentions,” said Prof. 
Markham, stroking his pet affectionately. Muff 
lifted his head to receive these caresses and 
blinked his eyes in placid bliss, while Winnie 
said, smiling, 

“ Pussy evidently prefers old friends to new.” 

“And now, little lady, suppose you just 
wheel that ottoman round to my side,” said the 
professor kindly. “ I want to have a cosey chat 
with you.” 

Winnie complied with the request, and her 
uncle in the kindest way led her on to talk 
about her home in Briarville, the friends she 
had made there, and the church and school she 
had attended. Ere the young girl was aware, 
she found herself talking to him as confidingly 
as if he had been her own father, he listened 
with such sympathetic interest and entered into 
all her feelings so kindly. 

“ Yes, dear child,” he said, “ I understand per- 
fectly what a grief it must have been to you to 
part with the friends you had known all your 
life.”^ 

“O Uncle Everard, it was hard,” answered 
Winnie, her eyes watering again. “ That is one 
thing that has made me so nervous this even, 
ing. I ’m not apt to be such a baby.” 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


45 


“It’s very natural you should feel so, my 
dear; you are overwrought and .excited. Was 
this the reason,” taking her hand kindly in his, 
“that you left the parlor this evening, or was 
something said that hurt your feelings ? Come, 
don’t be afraid to tell your old uncle, my child.” 

Winnie had flushed painfully, and said in an 
imploring voice, “Oh, uncle, please don’t ask 
me anything about that !” 

“ Oh, yes, I want you to tell me all about it,” 
her uncle replied. “ I ’ll promise not to say a 
word to anybody.” 

There was so much kindly authority in his 
voice and in the dark eyes that met hers as she 
looked up imploringly that Winnie felt she 
could not disobey him. “ Nobody said any- 
thing to me,” she began, then stopped abruptly. 
Her uncle did not seem to notice her distress 
and confusion, but said kindly, 

“Something was said however that hurt 
your feelings. Come, tell me what it was, my 
little daughter.” 

That endearing epithet went to Winnie’s 
heart. She hid her face against the professor’s 
arm and sobbed out, “ Oh, uncle, I do believe in 
Jesus — he’s my Saviour, my best Friend, and I 
love him dearly ! and something was said about 
him that hurt me very much.” 

There was a pause of a moment or two 


46 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

while the professor’s hand softly stroked Win- 
nie’s hair. She felt that he was not displeased 
with her and was comforted, but she could not 
see the tears that had gathered in the large 
dark eyes that were regarding her. 

Perhaps you hardly understood what you 
heard, my dear,” he said gently, breaking the 
silence. ‘‘ I do not believe there is one in that 
room who would deny the matchless beauty and 
purity of Jesus’ character.” 

‘‘Perhaps not,” murmured Winnie, “but” — 

“ But what, my dear?” 

“Oh, uncle, I wish you would not ask me! 
They thought it was all false that Jesus worked 
miracles and rose from the dead, and Dr. Fried- 
mann spoke of the ‘beautiful fairy tales of 
Christianity.’ And then that young gentleman 
who came with him said something so dreadful, 
so sneering — oh, please don’t ask me to repeat 
it!” and Winnie shuddered at the recollection. 
She had raised her head from her uncle’s arm 
but did not venture to lift her eyes to his; 
therefore she missed the look of keen displeas- 
ure that crossed his face as he replied, 

“Mr. Vogelzahn is too apt to make remarks 
of that sort, and if I had been there I should 
certainly have rebuked him. Did you hear any 
more ?” 

“No, I went out of the room as soon as he 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


47 

said that. It made me feel so unhappy, uncle! 
But I stole away so quietly I hoped nobody 
would notice me. And I am very, very sorry 
that you would make me tell you about it!” 
added Winnie in a tone of distress. 

“Never mind, little girl— there is no harm 
done,” replied the professor. “And now will 
you listen to a few words of advice from your 
old uncle ?” 

“ Indeed I will, sir,” said Winnie, lifting her 
blue eyes gratefully to his. “You are so good, 
so kind.” 

“Well, then, in the first place, you must 
make up your mind that you will be likely, 
every day, to hear things said that will hurt 
these sensitive feelings of yours. You are 
among relatives who hold very different views 
from your own, and like most people they are 
fond of expressing their opinions. Now try not 
to brood or worry over these things you hear. 
Put them out of your mind at once. Do n’t let 
them take root there. Will you promise me, 
Winnie?” 

“ I will try, sir,” replied the girl, a little be- 
wildered and hardly understanding her uncle. 

“And oh, my dear,” continued the professor 
with an earnestness that startled her, “ let noth- 
ing you hear shake your childlike faith in Christ 
and his Word! Cling to him, Winnie, cling 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


to Him, and never, never forget to pray. You 
have come to Doubting Castle, my dear,” he 
went on, assuming a lighter tone as he saw^ 
with what a strange, startled look she was re- 
garding him. It seems a very different place 
from the one Bunyan describes ; it is bright and 
cheery and full of life, but it is Doubting Castle 
after all. Beware, lest some day you find your- 
self in one of its underground dungeons, so dark 
you cannot see which way to turn and with no 
key of Promise in your bosom to unlock the 
doors.” 

The professor, as we have said, had as- 
sumed a lighter manner, almost as if he meant 
to jest, as he began to speak of his house as 
Doubting Castle. But there was an undertone 
of sadness in his voice that deepened as he con- 
tinued and that went right to Winnie’s heart. 
Tears rushed to the innocent blue eyes looking 
up to his and a question was trembling on her 
lips. Her uncle saw this and checked her by 
an expressive gesture. He spoke not one word, 
but Winnie understood perfectly that he did not 
choose to be questioned, and her natural timid- 
ity kept her from disregarding his wishes. 
There was silence for a moment or two. 

“It is half-past nine,” said the professor, 
looking at his watch, “ and I ’m sure you must 
be very tired and ready for your bed. I do n’t 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


49 


know that I ought to have had this talk with 
you to-night, but I could not be easy till I did 
so. Now do n’t speculate and worry about what 
I have said — only take it as a friendly and fa- 
therly warning to your little self. I will make 
your excuses in the parlor, Winnie,” he added, 
as they both rose, “and tell them that I have 
sent you to bed. Some of the younger callers 
are lingering there still, and I presume you do 
not care to go in again this evening.” 

“ Oh, no, I would much rather not,” said 
Winnie. “Please say good-night for me to 
my aunt and my cousins.” 

“ I will do so. You need not be afraid to 
meet them to-morrow on account of what oc- 
curred this evening. I can see that you have 
found your way into their hearts already, and 
very kind, warm hearts they are, I assure you. 
So go to sleep with a quiet mind, dear niece,” 
he added, kissing her affectionately, “and a 
peaceful, happy night’s rest' to you.” 

“Good-night, dear uncle,” said Winnie, in a 
voice that trembled a little. “ I do n’t know how 
to thank you for all your kindness to me.” 

“ Wait a minute,” said her uncle, and pressed 
an electric bell. Linda appeared almost imme- 
diately. 

“ Show Miss Lorimer to her room, Linda, and 
see that everything is in order there.” 

4 


Winnie Loi liner’s Visit. 


50 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

‘‘Oh, I can find my own way, uncle,” said 
Winnie. “ I need not trouble Linda.” 

“She would better go with you. You are a 
stranger here and have not yet learned your 
way about the house,” said her uncle, smiling, 
and with another pleasant good-night he dis- 
missed her. 

Linda led the way to Corinne’s room, lit the 
gas, and attended to two or three other little 
matters. 

“That smallest pitcher on the washstand 
holds drinking-water, miss. And now,” she 
added pleasantly, “is there anything more I 
can do for you?” 

“ No, thank you, Linda. I am much obliged 
to you,” answered Winnie, giving her one of 
her sweetest smiles. They exchanged a friendly 
good-night, and as Linda went down stairs she 
said to herself, “A’n’t she a little darling, 
though! And don’t I pity her to be obliged 
to sleep with Miss Corinne and to be subject 
to all her airs and her graces !” 

As soon as Winnie was left alone she sank 
into a chair and began to think over her talk 
with her uncle ; mingled with the glow of affec- 
tion and gratitude she felt towards him was the 
most intense pity and sympathy. 

“ He was thinking of himself when he said 
those last words, I ’m sure he was,” she said half 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 5 1 

aloud, “though he did not mean me to see it. 
Oh, poor, poor uncle!” 

The tears ran fast down her cheeks as she 
recalled the look, the tone, with which he had 
given her that melancholy warning. She re- 
buked herself for her timidity. Why had she 
not found courage to breathe one little word in 
his ear about Jesus the loving Saviour, whose 
heart, she felt assured, was yearning over this 
noble, sorrow-stricken soul with unutterable af- 
fection. 

“If I had only had the courage,” she said 
more than once to herself. “ But I did not dare. 
For all his kindness he looks as if he might be 
very stern if any one displeased him. 

“ I wonder if he did once believe in Jesus as 
his Saviour, and love him. It almost seems so 
from the way he spoke. Well,” with a sigh, “I 
can pray for him, and Christ loves him, I am 
sure of that, and longs to have him in his fold.” 

She opened her trunk, and taking out her 
little Bible turned to the stories of the Lost 
Sheep and of the Prodigal Son. Both the par- 
ables brought unutterable comfort to the sorrow- 
ful young heart that had entirely forgotten its 
own trials in sympathy for another. For they 
told her of a love unfathomable, a love that 
yearned over and would, at any cost, seek out 
the lost one, a love so tender and magnanimous 


52 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

that it would not utter one word of reproach to 
the penitent returning soul. 

She had finished her reading, but still sat 
there pondering with glistening eyes the meet- 
ing of the father and the son. At this moment 
the door opened and Corinne came softly in. 

^‘Why, Winnie Lorimer, are you still up?” 
she asked in a tone of good-natured reproof. 
“ It is full twenty minutes since father told us 
how tired you were and that he had sent you to 
bed. What book have you got there that is so 
very absorbing?” glancing at the little volume 
that still lay open on Winnie’s lap. 

‘‘It’s my Bible, Corinne,” said her cousin 
simply. A few hours ago she would have felt 
much embarrassed at the question and would 
have dreaded Corinne’s sarcastic tongue ; but 
her mind was so full of the talk with her uncle 
and of the beautiful parable she had been read- 
ing that there was little room for such thoughts. 

“ Ah !” replied Corinne. That was all she 
said, but the tone of good-humored sarcasm and 
the expressive way in which she raised her eye- 
brows brought a quick flush to Winnie’s cheek. 
She rose hastily, and exchanging her white lawn 
for a dressing-gown, began to brush out her 
long yellow hair. 

Corinne, meanwhile, had taken up a book in 
her turn. Winnie essayed a timid remark or 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


53 

two, but received such brief replies that she re- 
lapsed into silence. In truth, Corinne was long- 
ing to scold her cousin for her retreat from the 
parlor that evening, to convince her by dint of 
argument and reproof what a silly, bigoted, “ be- 
hind the times ” little goose she was, and then to 
graciously forgive and pet her after the punish- 
ment. But realizing how tired and nervous 
Winnie was, and mindful also of some admoni- 
tory words her father had addressed to her, she 
managed to hold her tongue and to appear very 
much interested in her reading. 

Oh, how Winnie longed to be alone ! With 
what a homesick feeling she thought of her own 
room at Briarville, that little nutshell of a room, 
not half as beautiful as this, but ah so dear, and 
where she had spent so many happy hours. 
That feeling of false shame had come upon her 
again ; she could not bear to kneel, and pray 
with the consciousness of Corinne’s scornful 
gaze upon her. She lingered, hesitated, till she 
was almost frightened at her own reluctance. 
Then suddenly, with a desperate resolution, she 
rose, and going to the bed, fell upon her knees. 
There was a profound silence in the room — she 
could hear nothing but the beating of her own 
heart ; it seemed as if it would suffocate her, and 
she fancied Corinne must hear it also. Thus 
she remained for a moment or two. Her cous- 


54 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


in’s mocking presence seemed to pervade the 
room — she could think of nothing else. She felt 
her eyes upon her, she quivered already in an- 
ticipation of the scornful laugh, of the cutting 
gibe, that was likely to greet her as she rose 
from her knees. 

Suddenly she seemed to see again her un- 
cle’s melancholy face, and with it came the recol- 
lection of the words he had spoken to her. And 
quickly following there rose before her another 
face, pallid, and crowned with thorns, but so 
sweet, so patient, so full of yearning, self-forget- 
ful love ! Tears gushed to her eyes, and the 
first words she whispered were words of heart- 
felt penitence for her cowardice and ingratitude. 
Then she thought of her uncle again, and her 
whole heart went out in prayer for him. She 
did not know how long she knelt there, but 
when she rose her face was calm and bright as a 
little child’s who has sobbed out all its troubles 
into a mother’s ear and been soothed and com- 
forted upon her tender breast. 

“ Well, Winnie, do you really feel as if it had 
done you any good to go through that lengthy 
performance ?” 

Corinne had not meant to say a word, but 
she could restrain her scornful tongue no longer. 
Winnie flushed a little, but she did not wince 
with shame, as she would have done some min- 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


55 


utes before. There was even a quiet dignity 
in her manner as she said after a minute’s 
pause, 

I cannot discuss this subject with you, Co- 
rinne, so long as you take that tone. You make 
a jest of the things that are most dear and sa- 
cred to me.” 

“ Dear me ! how dignified we are all of a sud- 
den,” said Corinne, with another scornful laugh. 
Then suddenly exclaiming, “ There, now ! I did 
not mean to say a word about it to-night, but 
I declare I will since you put on such airs,” she 
sprang upon Winnie, and lifting her as she 
would a child, seated her upon the side of the 
bed. 

“Now tell me,” she said, holding her by the 
shoulder, “ why you left the parlor so suddenly 
this evening.” 

Corinne was smiling as she spoke, and would 
have looked perfectly good-humored but for the 
gleam of malice in her eye. At that moment 
she resembled a half-grown kitten with a tiny 
white mouse in its claws. 

“ Tell me, this minute,” she repeated, giving 
Winnie a little shake. 

“ No, I shall tell you nothing !” said her cous- 
in, in a quiet but resolute voice. 

“You wont?” asked Corinne, laughing and 
evidently in high good-humor. “ I sha’ n’t get 


56 WINNIE lorimer’s visit. 

tired if I hold you here all night, but I rather 
guess you will be ready to give up after an hour 
or two.” 

“ Do you call this lady-like behavior?” asked 
poor Winnie. As she spoke she made an at- 
tempt to escape, but finding she was quite help- 
less in the grasp of her young tyrant, resigned 
herself to her fate. 

I do n’t know whether it ’s lady-like or not, 
but I know it ’s real good fun !” said Corinne, 
laughing. ‘‘ O Winnie, you poor infant, you 
might as well give up first as last ! Will you 
tell me, eh ? ’ she exclaimed, shaking her a little 
harder than she had before. 

At this moment the door opened, and a lady 
whom Winnie had not yet seen came briskly 
into the room. 

^‘Corinne Markham,” she exclaimed, “what 
are you doing to that poor child? Take your 
hands off her this moment.” 

Corinne, who had not noticed her sister’s en- 
trance till she spoke, released Winnie with a 
look of dismay. 

“ I was only having a little fun with her,” she 
said sullenly. Then, regaining her courage, 
“And I should like to know. Miss Mary Mark- 
ham, what you mean by coming into our room 
without knocking ?” 

“ I heard your voices as I was passing along 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


57 


the hall,” Mary coolly replied, “ and thought as 
you were both awake, that I would come in and 
speak to Cousin Winnie a moment. I was just 
about to knock when I heard your voice, young 
madam, and, as you spoke in quite a loud key, 
I could understand what you said. And I 
thought I would walk right in and see what 
you were doing to your unfortunate little room- 
mate.” 

“I do n’t see why you should call her unfor- 
tunate,” said Corinne, piqued at the expression. 
“ And if she ’s such a baby that she can’t stand a 
bit of fun—” 

“What you call fun is apt to be malicious 
mischief,” said Mary, “ and I do n’t imagine that 
Winnie found it very amusing.” As she spoke 
her eyes fell upon the little figure, now standing 
by the window, with head averted from them. 
She went to her immediately, and putting her 
arm around her, said in the kindest tone, “ Look 
up, dear, and speak to your Cousin Mary. Has 
that naughty girl vexed you much ?” 

“ Why, she ’s crying, poor soul !” she ex- 
claimed, turning sharply round again upon her 
sister. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself,, Co- 
rinne Markham, to treat your guest and room- 
mate in this inhospitable way, on the first even- 
ing of her arrival, too ? And you a girl of seven- 
teen, who ought to have outgrown such childish, 


58 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

malicious tricks long ago. But never mind, 
Winnie dear,” she said, stooping down to kiss 
her cousin. “ You shall come up stairs with me, 
where you can go to sleep in peace. Are these 
your clothes?” gathering them up from the 
chair. “ Get your brush and comb, and make 
haste, child, for you look very pale and tired. 
You ought to have been in bed long ago.” 

But Winnie lingered, looking wistfully at Co- 
rinne. That young damsel really did feel very 
much ashamed of herself when she realized how 
far her wild spirits and tyrannical disposition 
had carried her. She was scared too lest her 
father and mother should hear of her behavior ; 
but, after all, that was not the strongest feeling 
in her mind. She had been shamefully inhos- 
pitable to her cousin — she realized it now — and it 
was a great mortification to have Mary come in 
and carry her off to her own room. Neverthe- 
less she was too proud to utter a word of protest 
or apology; she stood pale and mute by her 
dressing-table, her head half averted, and look- 
ing strongly inclined to cry herself. 

But Winnie, the most loving and placable 
of cousins, read Corinne’s feelings in her face, 
and at once forgot her own grievance in sympa- 
thy for her. And when Mary again said kindly. 
Come, Winnie, are n’t you ready ?” she replied, 
“No, thank you, Cousin Mary. You are very 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 59 

kind, but I think I would better stay with Co- 
rinne.” 

Corinne gave a little start, but did not look 
round. Mary said quickly, “I don’t know 
whether I dare to trust you with her, Winnie. 
For she felt dissatisfied that Corinne had spoken 
no word of apology or regret. 

Corinne made a movement as if to say some- 
thing, but the words seemed to stick in her 
throat. Winnie went round to her, and taking 
her hand, said with a smile at the older sister, 
I ’m not afraid to trust myself with her. Cousin 
Mary. Don’t you want me, Corinne?” looking 
up at her with her innocent, confiding face. 

Corinne bent down, and clasping Winnie in 
her arms, kissed her passionately. Mary smiled, 
for she felt now that she could leave the two 
girls together with perfect safety. 

'‘Good-night to you both,” she said kindly. 
" Winnie, you must pay me a visit in my room 
to-morrow, and I will take you up to the observa- 
tory and let you look through my telescope.” 

“ Oh, thank you, I shall be delighted !” Win- 
nie replied. She went round to Mary, and in 
the warm embrace she gave her expressed the 
gratitude she was too delicate to speak out be- 
fore Coiinne. Mary understood her and smiled 
again. 

" You are a dear, good girl,” she said. “ Get 


6o 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


her into bed as soon as possible, wont yon, 
Corinne ? She must be very tired after her jour- 
ney.” 

“ I ’ll take good care of her, do n’t you 
be afraid,” replied Corinne, putting her arm 
around Winnie again and casting a somewhat 
jealous glance at Mary. The latter looked 
amused, and kissing her sister good-night went 
quickly out of the room. 

Half an hour later every light in the house 
was out except one that burned in the profes- 
sor’s study. He sometimes wrote till late into 
the night, but though he sat now with a half- 
finished manuscript before him, he could not fix 
his mind upon his subject. At last, pushing the 
paper impatiently from him, he wheeled round 
in his chair and sat musing, his eyes hidden by 
his hand. 

''Oh, for an innocent trust like hers!” he 
broke out at length. " Oh, for the fresh, pure 
faith of my boyhood I The dew of the morning 
rested upon it, but ah, how quickly it dried — 
how soon the blossom withered away ! 

" And for what have I exchanged that inno- 
cent faith ?” he sighed, after a pause. " I live 
in an atmosphere of unbelief ; doubts and ques- 
tionings start up at every corner like mocking 
spirits. I could not believe now if I tried.” 

He was silent again for some moments. 


DOUBTING CASTLE. 


6l 


But I will guard her r he exclaimed reso- 
lutely, almost sternly. She may be mistaken, 
but nobody, if I can help it, shall unsettle that 
innocent, beautiful belief of hers! Dear little 
creature ! how her loving, childlike confession of 
faith went to my heart. Oh, Winnie, Winnie ! 
I wish I could be a child again in spirit and 
share that unquestioning faith with you.” 

He rose from his chair, for he felt that it was 
useless for him to try to write, and extinguish- 
ing the student lamp went softly up stairs. For 
a long time he lay tossing in his bed unable to 
sleep, but at length the weary eyelids closed 
and quiet reigned in Doubting Castle. 


62 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


CHAPTER III. 

SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 

‘‘What a delightful morning !” thought Win- 
nie, as she opened her blue eyes after a refresh- 
ing night’s sleep. 

A fresh breeze had sprung up during the 
hours of slumber, and the atmosphere, so lan- 
guid and depressing yesterday, seemed now 
deliciously cool. The green blinds were closed, 
but the sunshine made its way through and 
danced and flickered upon the wall. There 
was a sweetness in the air as of new-mown hay, 
and Winnie wondered for a moment and then 
remembered that the grass in the little garden 
behind the house had been freshly cut. How 
she drank in that delicious fragrance; how it 
recalled to her mind dear Briarville — that 
“ loveliest village of the plain.” 

Drawing her mother’s watch from beneath 
her pillow, she looked at it and found that it 
was just six o’clock. Winnie was an early bird 
at all times, and she could not bear to lie abed 
any longer on this beautiful morning. Her 
pink worsted slippers lay near at hand. She 
put them on and proceeded to bathe and dress 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 63 

herself, making about as much noise as a but- 
terfly would at its toilet. 

When she was ready she took her Bible and 
sat down near the window. Corinne was fast 
asleep, and Winnie enjoyed to the full the peace 
and quiet of that morning hour. Her face was 
very bright as she rose from her knees, and 
opening the door softly she stole down stairs. 
In the hall she met Linda, who looked with a 
pleasant smile at the young stranger. 

“ Good morning, miss,” she said in response 
to Winnie’s greeting. “ Why, you ’re early up, 
leastways early for this house. They never 
breakfast till half-past seven, and in winter it ’s 
generally eight. Aren’t you tired after your 
journey ?” 

“ Oh, no, I feel quite rested this morning.” 

“Well, you look as fresh as a rose, to be 
sure,” Linda rejoined, looking admiringly at 
the girl in her pink cambric frock. “Your 
pa’s in the parlor, miss,” she added, opening 
the door. “He’s been walking up and down 
there this half-hour and don’t seem to know 
what to do with himself, poor gentleman. I 
reckon he ’s used to keeping earlier hours than 
they do in this house.” 

Why was it that a slight shadow crossed 
Winnie’s face at the mention of her step-father? 
Perhaps she was afraid that he would speak 


64 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

harshly to her as he had the night before, or 
read her a lecture at least. But she would not 
have Linda notice her hesitation, and hastily 
opening the parlor door presented herself be- 
fore him. She felt inclined to run away as he 
stopped short in his walk, but forced herself to 
say pleasantly, Good morning, father.” 

Mr. Markham’s response to her greeting was 
quite gracious and cordial. “Good morning, 
Winnie ; I am glad you have got up in a cheer- 
ful frame of mind. Nothing is more forlorn 
than to have a lachrymose damsel round the 
house, and I feared last evening that my rela- 
tives would hardly thank me for bringing you 
here. Now don’t look sober, child! It’s all 
right now, and I ’m glad to find that you have 
made a favorable impression upon your uncle 
and the rest of the family. Here ’s the paper 
if you wish to look at it.” 

“No, I thank you; I don’t care to just now, 
papa,” said the girl cheerfully, though her step- 
father’s remarks had rather a dispiriting effect 
upon her. “What a pleasant house this is.” 

“ Oh, yes, very pleasant,” replied Oscar Mark- 
ham indifferently. “ But,” pulling out his watch, 
“ when are they going to have breakfast, I won- 
der? It ’s a quarter past 'seven now.” 

“They breakfast at half-past seven, Linda 
told me,” Winnie rejoined. 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


65 

What ! have we got to wait a quarter of an 
hour longer?” said Mr. Markham impatiently. 
“ I Ve any quantity of things to attend to this 
morning ! How can people waste their precious 
time snoozing in bed, and on such a beautiful 
day too ! But my brother Everard never was a 
great hand to get up early,” he added, “and his 
family take after him. It ’s misery, now, for a 
man of my habits to waste his valuable mo- 
ments idling around here.” 

Had Oscar Markham possessed a more 
thoughtful and affectionate disposition it might 
have occurred to him that a few minutes spent 
in the society of a young daughter whom he 
was about to leave for a whole year could 
hardly be called a waste of time. But he was 
never in the habit of considering her feelings, 
and in truth did not reflect just now that he had 
said anything to hurt her. Her society and the 
companionship of books were alike wearisome 
to him ; his delight was in pleasures of another 
sort. Not but that he was a hard worker; dur- 
ing his business hours no man gave his mind 
more to his duties than he, and but for his rest- 
less disposition and love of change he might 
have been very prosperous by this time. 

His careless words hurt Winnie cruelly, and 
for a moment there was a wounded, bitter ex- 
pression on her face. Her first impulse was to 
5 


Winnie Lorlmer’s Visit, 


66 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

walk proudly away. She checked this impulse, 
however, but the hurt feeling would show itself 
in the tone of her voice as she said, 

“Cousin Mary came in to speak to me last 
night and was lovely. In fact they are all kind. 
I think I shall soon feel at home here. As for 
Uncle Everard, he seems like a father to me 
already. How kind, how thoughtful he is in 
every way.” 

Obtuse as Oscar Markham was by nature, he 
could hardly help noticing the tone of her voice, 
and was besides a little inclined to be jealous of 
his intellectual and gifted brother. He broke 
into a short, disagreeable laugh as he said, fix- 
ing his eye upon the girl, 

“ That ’s all very well, but do n’t make your- 
self a nuisance to him, Winnie. He dislikes 
above all things to have people obtrusive, and 
though you are an excellent good girl in your 
way, you are not intellectual enough to be any 
sort of a companion to your uncle.” 

Winnie turned suddenly away and bent down 
over a vase of china asters as if to examine the 
flowers. There was a suffocating feeling in her 
throat, but she forced back the tears with a 
strenuous effort. 

“Plague take the girl! Is she going to cry 
again?” thought her father, who had marked 
the expression of her face as she turned away. 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 6/ 

He hastened to ask her in a good-humored 
tone, 

Has Corinne told you anything about the 
S9hool? Do you know when it begins?” He 
did not really care a straw when it began, but 
was anxious to divert his daughter’s mind if 
possible. At home he would have cared little 
for her tears, but here among these critical rela- 
tives it was a different matter. 

'‘No, sir,” Winnie managed to bring out. 

Mr. Markham was about to question her fur- 
ther when he caught sight of some one enter- 
ing the room. His face lighted up and he ex- 
claimed, " Good morning, Conrad. How do you 
feel after ‘the feast of reason and the flow of 
soul’ that you enjoyed last evening?” 

“ May I ask, sir, if you refer to the dinner at 
the Fords, or to the conversation of our callers 
later on ?” asked Conrad Markham good-na- 
turedly enough, though there was a gleam of 
sarcastic humor in his eye. He did not like his 
uncle, and held his vapid attempts at wit in utter 
contempt. 

“To both, to both, my boy,” said his uncle 
jovially, “ but chiefly to the conversation of the 
ladies who were here.” 

“The ladies,” Conrad replied, “were agree- 
able certainly, but may I ask if this little lady 
here is my cousin Winnie?” 


68 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

“Oh, yes. Winnie, this is Conrad, another 
of your cousins,” Mr. Markham replied. 

“ I am very glad to meet you, Winnie, and 
glad that you are to become one of our family 
for a time,” said Conrad, as he gave the girl a 
hearty shake of the hand. To himself he 
thought, “ What a lovely girl ! I wonder if that 
uncle of mine has been hurting her feelings 
again. She looks just ready to cry.” 

Conrad was nearly twenty-four, three years 
younger than Mary, who was the eldest of the 
children. He was a tall, thin young man, almost 
the picture of his mother, only his eyes were 
a keen gray instead of brown. Winnie looked 
up into his acute, intelligent face, a little afraid 
of him, to tell the truth, for her father had de- 
scribed him as “ extremely clever, and a sarcastic 
sort’ of a chap into the bargain.” But his greet- 
ing had certainly been very kind and friendly. 

The breakfast bell rang at this moment, and 
very soon the rest of the family appeared. Win- 
nie had dreaded a little the meeting with her 
aunt, after last night’s occurrence, but she re- 
ceived a kindly greeting from every one and 
a playful reproof from Corinne for rising so 
early. 

“ The idea,” she said, “ of your getting up at 
cockcrow, when you went to bed so tired last 
evening.” 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


69 

“Cockcrow,” laughed Winnie. “Your city 
cocks must be very lazy if they do n’t begin to 
crow before six o’clock in the morning.” 

“ You do n’t mean to tell me that you got up 
at that hour! O Winnie, you naughty child. 
And how did you manage to dress without ma- 
king a particle of noise ? But I forgot,” lower- 
ing her voice, “that you are a fairy, and wear 
pink rose-leaves for slippers at your toilet.” 

For all Corinne’s wit and shrewdness, there 
was a decided vein of poetry in her nature. 
Winnie was fascinated by her bright, original, 
warm-hearted cousin, and felt that she should 
love her in spite of her imperious ways. Yet 
Mary attracted her more, and her eyes wan- 
dered that way again and again. Not that this 
cousin was handsome ; her nose was a little too 
long for beauty, and she was naturally thin ; but 
she had a fine expressive face and a sweet 
though resolute mouth. She was teacher of As- 
tronomy in the Bellmer Institute, which Corinne 
attended, and Winnie looked forward with de- 
light to becoming one of her pupils. 

Breakfast was hardly over when Mr. Mark- 
ham began to take leave of his relatives. Busi- 
ness, he said, would occupy him till within half 
an hour of the steamer’s sailing. It was quite a 
little journey from their house to the neighbor- 
ing city, and he had concluded to take his lunch 


70 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

at a restaurant there, and not to attempt to re- 
turn to his brother’s. 

“ But, Oscar, old fellow, I do n’t like your fly- 
ing off in this way,” said Prof. Markham. “ I ’ll 
get my hat and go over with you — ” 

My dear boy, you might as well attach your- 
self to a comet,” interrupted his impetuous bro- 
ther. “ Why, I expect to be in forty places at 
once this morning.” 

“Oh, you needn’t imagine that I am going 
to try to follow your eccentric movements,” 
said Prof. Markham, laughing. “ I propose to 
make a tour of the picture-galleries with Winnie 
here and any of my family who choose to ac- 
company us. Then we can meet you at some 
restaurant, and go from there to the steamer. 
You ’ll go, wont you, my dear ?” turning affec- 
tionately to his wife. “ It will do you good — you 
look pale, as if you had written too hard yester- 
day. It’s such glorious weather, too — ^just the 
day for an outing.” 

His wife smiled and accepted his invitation. 
Hilary and Corinne were eager to go, but Con- 
fad, who was a lawyer, was obliged to go to his 
office, and Mary and Harriet had engagements 
that kept them at home. 

“Well, there will be quite a party to see me 
off,” said Oscar Markham complacently. “ Be 
sure and take a couple of handkerchiefs apiece. 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 7 1 

for when I say good-by I shall expect you to 
shed torrents of tears all round.” 

Well, I suppose Oscar is well under way by 
this time,” said Prof. Markham, as he sat with 
his wife on the little balcony in front of the 
house waiting the summons to dinner. ‘‘ Poor 
fellow! I do trust his golden visions may be 
realized,” he added, with a sigh. 

“ I hope so,” said his wife rather shortly. It 
was hard for her to speak or even think of Oscar 
Markham with any patience, but she did not 
wish to hurt her husband’s feelings by criticising 
his brother. Conrad, however, who made his 
appearance upon the balcony at that moment, 
could no longer restrain the indignation that he 
had been feeling all day. 

“ I should like,” he said, '^to give Uncle Oscar 
a piece of my mind about the way he treats that 
dear daughter of his. Why, he brought the tears 
into her eyes two or three times at the table this 
morning.” 

It is chiefly want of tact, I think,” said Prof. 
Markham. “ My brother is good-hearted and 
-affectionate, but he is not naturally sensitive 
himself, and I presume hurts Winnie’s feelings 
a dozen times every day without being aware of 
it.” 

“ He certainly does not understand the child,” 


72 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

put in Mrs. Markham, “ or appreciate her as she 
deserves. She is not brilliant or particularly 
original, but she has a great deal more mind 
than he gives her credit for. I watched her in 
the art-galleries this morning. She does not 
pretend to know anything about pictures, and is 
as artless in her expressions of admiration as a 
child ; but I can see that she has a natural taste 
for what is fine, and her enjoyment is so thor- 
oughly genuine and unaffected, it is a pleasure 
to watch her.” 

“Well, I am glad you like the girl, my 
dear,” said her husband. “ I have taken a great 
fancy to her myself.” 

“ Of course,” said his wife, with an answering 
smile, “ it is too early to form a judgment of her 
character. Traits may develop thernselves that 
will not please us at all. But the impression so 
far is certainly very favorable. Your brother 
seemed quite affectionate in his manner to her 
when he bade her good-by,” she added, after a 
pause. 

“Yes, and I was glad to see it. Oh, I think 
he is fond of her, though, as you remarked a 
moment ago, he does not understand or appre- 
ciate her.” 

“ I only wish,” rejoined his wife, “ that we 
could cure her of those absurd religious notions 
of hers. Corinne told me what a time she spent 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


73 


at her prayers last night. However,” she added 
with a smile, “she is very young, and a year 
spent with us may work wonders.” 

Prof. Markham’s expression changed imme- 
diately, and he said with a tinge of bitterness in 
his voice, 

“ Why should you wish to * cure ’ her of those 
* notions ’ as you call them ? Why try to shake 
the childlike faith that makes her so happy ?” 

His wife opened her large brown eyes upon 
him, a little startled • at his tone. They were 
alone now, for Conrad had run to the gate to 
greet a passing friend. 

“ I do n’t understand you, Everard,” Mrs. 
Markham said gently after a moment’s pause. 
“ Why should you wish to keep a little bird in a 
cage, instead of setting it free to enjoy the air 
and the sunshine ?” 

“You might drive the poor bird into a cage 
where she would beat her head and wings 
against the bars all day, and never be able to 
escape,” rejoined her husband in a warning 
tone. “Take care what you do, Elizabeth. Ask 
yourself, before you try to destroy the faith of 
that innocent child, what you propose to give 
her in exchange.” 

One of the most impressionable and sensitive 
of men. Prof. Markham was singularly reticent 
as well. His wife had never heard him speak in 


74 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

this way before, and it almost overcame her for 
a moment. Her beautiful brown eyes filled with 
tears, and she turned upon him a look of the 
deepest reproach. 

“ It hurts me very much, Everard,” she re- 
plied, “to hear you say such words. I remem- 
ber when you felt very differently. And now it 
almost seems as if you reproached me.” 

She checked herself suddenly, and laying her 
hand upon his, said in a changed tone, a tone 
full of hope and encouragement, 

“And you will feel again as you felt then, 
my dear. Yours is a different temperament 
from mine, poetical and imaginative, and with 
a tinge of melancholy, as you know of yourself 
too well. It is harder for you than for me to 
break utterly loose from the teaching in which 
you were brought up. But I know my noble 
husband — I am sure he could never endure to 
have his manly limbs put again in the swad- 
dling bands of childish superstition.” 

The shadow did not lift from Prof. Mark- 
ham’s face, but he raised his wife’s hand ten- 
derly to his lips and kissed it. 

“Whatever else I may lose faith in or re- 
gret,” he replied, “ I shall never lose my faith in 
one true, loving heart, or regret that the dearest, 
noblest woman in the world honored me with 
her love. But let us talk no more of this, pre- 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


75 


cious wife. As you said, we are of different tem- 
peraments, yours all sunshine, while mine is too 
often clouded with melancholy. We could not 
view things with just the same eyes even if I did 
not at times look back with longing to the pure 
faith of my boyhood.” 

If the last sentence brought a pang to Mrs. 
Markham’s heart she stifled it bravely. “You 
do n’t seem like yourself to-night, my dear,” 
she said, gently laying her hand on his fore- 
head. “ Does your head ache ?” 

“ Yes, a little,” replied the professor. 

“ A good cup of tea will refresh you, and after 
dinner I will try the effect of my ‘ magic touch,’ 
as you call it. There is the bell now,” rising as 
she spoke. “ Will you come, Everard?” 

When dinner was partly over Corinne began 
to talk about an excursion they had planned for 
the morrow. 

“ I hope the weather will be as lovely as it is 
to-day,” she said enthusiastically. “You have 
never seen the ocean in your life, have you, 
Winnie ?” 

“No,” replied her little cousin faintly. She 
was looking very uncomfortable and bewildered. 
“ Surely they must have forgotten that to-mor- 
row is Sunday,” she thought, not stopping to 
consider how little her relatives would be in- 
clined to reverence the day. 


76 WINNIE lorimer’s visit. 

“ Ah, it will be a great treat to you then,” 
said Corinne, thinking how she herself would 
enjoy her cousin’s surprise and delight. ‘‘But 
what makes you look so?” she added suddenly. 

Winnie colored to her temples, for she felt 
that all eyes were fixed upon her. “I can’t go 
to-morrow, Corinne,” she said, finding it very 
hard to bring the words out. 

“And why not, pray?” asked her cousin in a 
tone of indignant remonstrance. 

“I don’t like to go on Sunday,” faltered 
Winnie, her face still hot with a distressful 
blush. A gentle smile went round the table 
and Corinne broke into a scornful laugh which 
was instantly and sternly checked by her fa- 
ther. He was the only one who had not seemed 
amused, but he had kept silent till now, wishing 
perhaps to see of what metal his little niece was 
made. 

“ Be silent, Corinne !” he exclaimed. “ Are 
you not ashamed to be so rude to your cousin ? 
Winnie is quite right. I am glad she is true to 
her principles. If she had been so weak as to 
yield I should not have allowed her to go.” 

“ My dear !” said his wife in a tone of gentle 
remonstrance. 

“Of course I should not,” persisted the pro- 
fessor. “ I know how her mother would have 
felt in regard to this matter — I know what her 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


77 


father’s wishes are. And,” he added with in- 
stinctive honesty, “ I have a feeling of my own 
on the subject, so far as Winnie is concerned. 
No,” looking at his niece with a smile, ‘‘she 
must go to church and Sabbath-school every 
Sunday as she has been accustomed to do. 
There will be plenty of opportunities for her 
to go on pleasure excursions on other days of 
the week.” 

Winnie tried to smile back at him, but it was 
a difficult matter. Though grateful for his help, 
she felt that the atmosphere had suddenly be- 
come very uncomfortable for the others as well 
as for herself, and hardly ventured to look into 
their faces. Mrs. Markham drew herself up and 
compressed her lips as her habit was when dis- 
pleased. She had too much reverence for her 
husband to speak to him with any disrespect, 
and above all in the presence of their children. 
But she began again to feel that Winnie would 
never “fit in” to the family, especially if her 
husband persisted in sustaining her in what 
Mrs. Markham considered those “absurd, strait- 
laced notions” of hers. 

Mary and Hilary both felt sorry for their 
cousin’s evident discomfiture, and by starting 
fresh subjects of conversation tried to dispel 
the cloud that hung about the table. Their ef- 
forts were seconded by the professor and Con- 


78 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

rad, but Mrs. Markham’s cold, quiet displeasure 
was not easily dissipated when once aroused. 
She had been accustomed to rule in her family, 
and though she fairly idolized her husband she 
did not like to see him take the reins into his 
own hands in this fashion. Generally he had 
been quite content to leave the management of 
affairs to her. 

Harriet, like her mother, was quietly dis- 
pleased and disposed to be silent. As for Co- 
rinne, she was furious, and her wrath and scorn 
waxed the hotter that she did not dare to let 
them flame up in her father’s presence. But 
she inwardly resolved that as soon as she found 
herself alone with Winnie she would lash her 
with her tongue, and if possible make her 
ashamed of herself, ‘‘the little bigoted, narrow- 
minded, obstinate creature !” 

Meanwhile she sat there with pale cheeks 
and burning eyes, angry with her father as 
well as with Winnie, and answering a timid, ap- 
pealing glance which her cousin directed to- 
wards her with one so savage that the poor 
little girl was fairly appalled. But she was in- 
dignant, as well, and resolved to keep out of Co- 
rinne’s way as much as possible that evening. 

How thankful she felt when dinner was over. 
Perhaps her uncle was relieved also, for he was 
very sensitive to the moods of those about him. 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


79 


and particularly disliked an atmosphere of cold- 
ness and constraint. He went immediately to 
his study, whither his wife soon followed him. 

She had found him lying on the lounge, his 
eyes closed, his forehead knit as if from pain or 
anxious thought. Mrs. Markham’s heart smote 
her, and she resolved that whatever displeasure 
she might feel with Winnie, no cloud should be 
allowed to come between her and her husband. 

How is your head now, my dear ?” she said, 
seating herself beside him. 

‘Ht feels rather worse than it did,” replied 
the professor a little coldly, for he had been 
hurt by his wife’s behavior at the table. 

“ I am so sorry,” said Mrs. Markham, laying 
her cool, soft hand upon his forehead. She 
stroked it gently for a few moments, then bent 
down and kissed her husband. The action ex- 
pressed an apology, though she did not speak a 
word, and he took her hand as he had before 
and carried it to his lips. 

Now let me try my ^ magic touch ’ again,” 
she said gently after a pause. 

Well might her husband call it by that 
name, for it had upon him as upon others an 
inexpressibly soothing effect, Mrs. Markham’s 
hand was so firm as well as gentle in its touch, 
cool and soft and free from nervous trembling. 
And the professor, who still felt fatigued from 


8o 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


lying awake so long the night before, soon 
yielded to that soothing influence and sank into 
a gentle sleep. 

Meanwhile Winnie had sought the piazza 
again, followed by Conrad and Hilary. Both 
were very anxious that their pretty little cousin 
should accompany them on the morrow, and 
they sought by good-natured raillery and argu- 
ment to shake her determination. They were 
so kind and gentle, for all their “teasing” ways, 
that Winnie found them harder to resist than 
Corinne, whose aggressive, imperious manner 
roused the spirit of the little maiden. She 
stood firm, however, and Mary presently came 
to the rescue. 

“ Come now, you naughty boys,” she said in 
a tone of playful reproof, “stop teasing this 
poor girl. Do you really want her to do what 
she thinks is wrong ?” 

“We want to convince her that we are 
right,” replied Hilary, laughing. 

“ ‘ A man convinced against his" will 
Is of the same opinion still,”* 

said Mary. “But come now, I want Cousin 
Winnie to pay me a visit in my own room; I 
shall then take her to the observatory. Would 
you like to join us there later?” she asked, put- 
ting her arm around Winnie, who had risen 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


8l 


eagerly in response to her invitation, and look- 
ing with a smile at her brothers. 

'‘We’ll join you in the course of an hour,” 
replied Conrad, “eh, Hilary?” 

“Yes, you may expect us at eight precisely,”- 
said the younger brother. “Have you ever 
looked at the moon, Winnie — through a tele- 
scope I mean?” 

“ No, and I ’m delighted to have the chance 
at last,” replied his cousin, giving Mary an en- 
thusiastic little squeeze as she spoke. 

“Yes, and Mary’s telescope is an uncom- 
monly powerful one,” remarked Hilary gravely. 
“On clear nights you can see the man in the 
moon quite distinctly.” 

“ Indeed? Well, that would be a treat!” said 
Winnie with a twinkle in her blue eyes. “ Let 
us hope that the fine weather may not have 
tempted him to take a trip to Norwich again.” 

“I wont have you making fun of my tele- 
scope, you saucy boy!” said Mary, giving Hil- 
ary’s ear a playful little tweak as she spoke. 
“Of course it isn’t on a grand scale like our 
friend Mr. Bond’s twenty thousand dollar one, 
but it’s very good in its way. Come, Winnie, 
let us leave these frivolous young gentlemen 
to themselves ; perhaps they will sober down in 
the course of an hour and be better company 
for sedate, sensible people like you and me.” 


Winnie Lorimer's Vieit. 


82 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


Let US hope so,” replied the young girl de- 
murely. 

“ Wait a minute,” said Conrad, detaining them. 
*‘Are you aware, Winnie, that Mary rooms on 
the attic floor? It might be an unpleasant 
shock to you if you were not prepared, and — ” 

^‘And,” interposed Mary, feigning great in- 
dignation, “I should like to know where you 
will find a prettier room in the house than 
mine. You must know, Winnie, that I made a 
special petition for it on account of its being 
right at the foot of the observatory stairs. It is 
very convenient for me, as I can ‘ take an obser- 
vation ’ at any hour of the night I choose with- 
out disturbing the family.” 

“Yes, and she is apt to select the most un- 
earthly hours for her observations,” put in Con- 
rad, “such as midnight or two o’clock in the 
morning, for instance. I think she picked out 
that room because she feared that her restless 
brothers might some night mistake her for a 
burglar and terminate her astronomical career 
by a bullet.” 

“Yes, doubtless that was the reason,” said 
Mary ironically. “Come, Winnie, don’t you 
think we ’ve had quite enough of their non- 
sense ?” 

With these words she carried off her cousin. 
At the foot of the parlor stairs they encountered 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 83 

Harriet, who had just come down and who car- 
ried a novel in her hand. 

“ I am taking Winnie up to my room,” said 
Mary, “and we are going into the observatory 
afterward. Will you join us, Harriet?” 

“ Thank you, not this evening,” replied her 
sister ; “I want to finish ' Judith Shakespere.’ ” 

“ Will you tell mother where we are if she 
asks for us ? Conrad and Hilary are coming up 
later.” 

“Yes. I think she is with father in the 
study.” 

“ And ask them, please, if they do n’t want to 
come up and take a peep through the telescope 
after a while. It’s such a lovely moonlight 
night.” 

At the head of the second pair of stairs Mary 
paused again, and said smilingly to Winnie, 

“ I want to speak to Corinne a moment. Sup- 
pose you run right up to my room, dear. You 
can’t miss it ; it ’s at the end of the hall above, 
close to the observatory.” 

“ Very well. Cousin Mary,” replied the young 
girl readily, for she had no desire to encounter 
Corinne. She tripped away, but stopped short 
at the foot of the stairs. Some one was singing 
in the little hall-bedroom, and though the door 
was closed, Winnie could hear every word dis- 
tinctly. It was an old woman’s voice, but re- 


84 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

tained much of its original strength and sweet- 
ness. 

“ Oh, my Lord, he ’d steal away at de closin’ ob de day; 
(Blow, breezes from de Lake ob Galilee.) 

Yes, he ’d softly steal away in de olive-groves to pray. 
(Blow, breezes from de Lake ob Galilee.) 

Oh, brudders, keep on prayin’, 

Oh, sisters, keep on prayin’! 

De good Lord still is sayin’, 

Dear children, watch and pray.” 

Winnie stood as if rooted to the spot. Her heart 
was throbbing, her eyes full of happy tears. 
What joy to find under this roof one who like 
herself was a loving disciple of the Master. No 
hymn had ever sounded so sweet to her as this 
humble refrain from the lips of the old colored 
woman. She listened eagerly for the next verse. 

“ Oh, de winds dey whispered low, and dey cooled His 
burnin’ brow, 

(Blow, breezes from de Lake ob Galilee.) 

And no one else was dere, but our Father heard de prayer 
Ob de blessed Lord who died for you and me. 

Oh, brudders, keep on prayin’. 

Oh, sisters, keep on prayin’ ! 

De good Lord still is sayin’. 

Dear children, watch and pray.” 

There was a mournful tenderness in the old 
woman’s voice as she sang this second verse. 
A pause of a moment followed, and then clear 
and sweet rang out the closing strains of the 
hymn. 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


85 


“ Oh, I lub to steal away at de closin’ ob de day ; 

(Blow, breezes from de crystal sea, on me.) 

Yes, I lub to steal away wid my Lord to watch and pray. 

(Blow, breezes from de crystal sea, on me.) 

Oh, brudders, keep on prayin’, 

Oh, sisters, keep on prayin’ ! 

De good Lord still is sayin’. 

Dear children, watch and pray.” 

Again there was silence, broken shortly by the 
old woman’s voice uplifted in fervent prayer. 
Winnie felt as if her presence there longer would 
be an intrusion ; she softly stole away, determined 
to find out from Mary who the aged singer was 
and to call upon her on the morrow. 

Meanwhile Mary had been talking with Co- 
rinne. A somewhat curt “ Come in ” had an- 
swered her light tap on the door. She opened 
it and entered, while Corinne looked up with 
a cruel light in her eyes, for she did not doubt 
that it was her little cousin, and exulted in the 
thought that she now had her at her mercy. 
She could not conceal her disappointment at the 
sight of Mary. 

“ Oh, it ’s you, is it ?” she said coldly. 

‘‘ Yes, it ’s I,” replied Mary in the same tone. 
“ I have sent Winnie up to my room, and am go- 
ing to take her into the observatory pretty soon. 
Would you like to join us there ?” 

‘‘ Thank you, not this evening,” said Corinne, 
fixing her eyes again upon her book. 


86 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


Mary looked keenly at the girl a moment, 
then walked straight up to her. “ May I ask,” 
she said in a low but impressive voice, how 
you intend to treat Winnie when she comes 
down ? As you did last evening?” 

The angry color flamed up into Corinne’s 
cheek. “ I -do n’t know what business it is of 
yours. Miss Mary,” she was about to reply, but 
changed her mind, remembering how her sister 
had nearly carried off Winnie the night before. 

Do n’t you worry about that silly little 
thing !” she said, forcing a laugh. “ I like her 
very much, though she does provoke me with 
those absurd notions of hers. And I sha’ n’t 
lay a hand upon her, I assure you.” 

^‘Well, I should hope you would never do 
such an unlady-like thing as that again,” said 
Mary. Then in a milder tone, “ But come now, 
Corinne, I want you to promise me that you 
wont say anything unkind to that poor girl. I 
can see that you are very much vexed with her, 
but remember that she has been brought up in 
these ideas ; it would be really cruel to try to 
torment or scold her into doing what she thinks 
is wrong. And she is such a gentle, sensitive 
little creature.” 

Corinne lost her temper. Gentle! sensi- 
tive 1” she broke in. She is as self-willed a 
creature as I ever saw, for all her soft ways! 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


87 


And you and father are just going to spoil her, 
let me tell you, upholding her in all her nonsen- 
sical opinions and making her feel herself a 
martyr. If you ’d leave her to mother and me, 
we ’d soon cure her of these absurd notions. 
Well, what are you going to do now?” with an 
added ring of sharpness in her voice. 

I am going to keep that dear girl with 
me to-night,” replied Mary, in a tone of quiet 
decision, as she gathered up various articles 
belonging to Winnie. I would n’t trust her 
with you in the temper you are in.” 

Not trust her with me indeed !” flashed out 
Corinne. “ I never heard of anything so in- 
sulting, so ridiculous. You talk as if Winnie 
and I were two small children ! If she ’s mean 
enough,” she continued, raising her voice, “ to 
keep away from me all night, I wont speak to 
her to-morrow — so there! How will you like 
that. Miss Mary ?” 

Perhaps it will be just as well, under the 
circumstances,” said Mary calmly. “There is 
no use talking any more about it, Corinne. 
Winnie will share my room to-night, and as 
much longer as is necessary.” 

Mary stifled an inward pang as she spoke, 
for she dearly prized having a room to herself, 
and had had that privilege for years. 

“Where is the pink cambric Winnie wore 


88 


WINNIE LORIMER'S VISIT. 


this morning?” she continued. “Oh, here it is 
in this closet.” 

“You would better take her pious dress,” 
sneered Corinne, “ that white nun’s veiling that 
she keeps for Sundays. Oh, and don’t forget 
her Bible ; the dear little saint would n’t dare to 
go to sleep without first reading her chapter.” 

“ Corinne ! Corinne !” said Mary seriously. 
“ If you don’t learn to curb that bitter tongue 
of yours, it will make you more miserable than 
it will any one else. But we wont talk any more 
now. Good-night.” 

Corinne would not answer her, and only 
waited for her departure to burst into a flood of 
angry tears. If she felt some pangs of remorse, 
she soon stifled them, and resolved to treat Win- 
nie with great coldness on the following day. 

As for Mary, she went up to her own room, 
where she found Winnie examining the pictures 
on the walls. 

“What a lovely room you have. Cousin 
Mary,” she said, looking around as her cousin 
entered. “ You are as fond of pretty, dainty 
things as Corinne, are n’t you ?” 

“Yes, I like to have pretty things about me,” 
Mary replied with a smile. Then, as Winnie’s 
eye fell on the articles she had brought up, 
“You see, cousin, I expect you to spend the 
night with me. How do you like the idea ?” 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


Oh, I shall enjoy it of all things !” said 
Winnie, her face flushing with pleasure. But,” 
after a moment’s hesitation, “ did you speak to 
Corinne ? Was she vexed about it ?” 

“ Do n’t worry your kind head about Co- 
rinne,” answered Mary. “ She is a good-hearted, 
generous girl, but wilful and disposed to tyran- 
nize over anybody who will allow her to do so. 
You must be independent, Winnie, and show 
her that you have a mind of your own, or she 
will walk right over you.” 

A slight sigh was Winnie’s only answer, and 
Mary, seeing that she looked unhappy, diverted 
her thoughts into another channel. She began 
to question her about her studies, and was much 
pleased with her modest, intelligent answers. 

“Well,” she said at last, looking at her 
watch, “ I think we may as well go up to the 
observatory now. Here, Winnie,” taking a light 
shawl from a drawer, “wrap this round your 
shoulders. It is pretty cool this evening.” 

“ But wont you need it yourself. Cousin 
Mary ?” 

“No, I ’ll just put on my jersey.” 

“ Cousin Mary,” said Winnie, as they turned 
to leave the room, “ who is that old colored wo- 
man down stairs whom I heard singing a little 
while ago?” 

“ Oh, that is Aunt Glory,” replied Mary, smi- 


go WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

ling, “ a faithful old servant who has been with 
us ever since I can remember. You must make 
her acquaintance. She is quite a character. She 
has been visiting a cousin who lives in the city, 
and only returned this afternoon.” 

As Mary spoke she unlocked the observatory 
door, which was secured by a bolt and a key, and 
they ascended a short flight of stairs. In a few 
moments they were joined by Hilary and Con- 
rad. 

Winnie never forgot that first evening in the 
observatory. She had studied astronomy before, 
but under a very different teacher from Mary, 
and without the aid of a telescope. A new 
world seemed opened to her; her blue eyes 
shone like stars themselves, and Mary was much 
pleased as well as amused at the curiosity and 
delight manifested by her new pupil. 

“ Winnie will float through space all night 
long, I imagine,” said Conrad, as about ten 
o’clock the little party broke up, “visiting the 
moon and other planets in her dreams.” 

“ I should n’t be surprised if I did,” replied 
Winnie, laughing, and with a pleasant good- 
night they parted at Mary’s door. 

They were hardly in the room when Mary, 
seating herself, began to jot down some hasty 
notes in a blank-book. Winnie opened her little 
Bible, happily conscious that no scornful eyes 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


91 


were watching her every movement, and turned 
involuntarily to the hundred and fourth Psalm 
and then to the eighth. As she read the verses 
beginning, “ When I consider thy heavens, the 
work of thy fingers,” she felt their beauty and 
sublimity as she never had before. Closing the 
book, she knelt by the bed, and her prayer that 
night was more like a hymn of gratitude and 
praise. 

Mary was still intent on her book when Win- 
nie approached her. “ Good-night, dear Cousin 
Mary,” she said, putting her arms around her 
neck. “ Oh, I Ve had such a beautiful evening. 
I believe, as Conrad said, that I shall dream of 
the moon and stars all night long.” 

“ Well, I hope you may, provided your 
dreams are pleasant ones,” replied Mary as she 
warmly returned her kiss. “ I dreamed once,” 
she went on, smiling, “ that I was flying through 
space pursued by an army of comets. My sen- 
sations were far from agreeable, I assure you.” 

Winnie laughed. I hope I may be spared 
such a vision as that. But I am keeping you 
from your writing, dear cousin.” 

She got into bed, where she lay awake for a 
few moments, dreamily happy. Mary was ab- 
sorbed in her writing and Winnie’s blue eyes 
wandered again and again to the strong, sweet 
face so unconscious of her gaze. 


92 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

How dear she is — how I love her !” thought 
the young girl. ‘‘Oh, can it be possible,” with a 
sudden pang, “that she is an unbeliever?” 

The blue eyes closed now while a silent 
prayer went up, not only for this dear cousin, 
but for all under that roof. Then she fell 
sweetly asleep, and thus Mary found her when 
a few moments after she laid aside her writing 
and approached the bed. 

The motherly element was very strong in 
Mary’s character, and as she stood there gazing 
at Winnie the tender smile that lighted up her 
face made it almost beautiful. 

“How lovely she is, and how like an inno- 
cent child she looks !” she thought to herself. 
“There is a good deal of womanliness about 
her too; I can see that already. She has a 
great deal of self-control for one so young, and 
how intelligent as well as modest her questions 
and answers were to-night. I shall enjoy hav- 
ing her for a pupil. 

“What a sweet smile she has on her face. 
Dear little creature, I wonder if she is ‘dream- 
ing of the moon and stars.’ There is more 
poetry and imagination in her composition 
than I supposed at first. She seems so placid, 
so self-controlled for one of her years.” 

She stood gazing at Winnie as if fascinated 
till the striking of the clock aroused her. 


SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 


93 


Half-past eleven ! Why, how the time has 
flown,” she murmured, glancing with a smile at 
the warning timepiece. 

Hastily undressing, she crept into bed very 
quietly,' that she might not disturb her little 
cousin. And soon her gentle, regular breath- 
ing showed that she too was fast asleep. 


94 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


CHAPTER IV. 

AUNT GLORY. 

The Sabbath morning dawned bright and 
beautiful. As usual Winnie’s blue eyes opened 
early, like the flowers, but she lay still for a few 
moments lost in thought. Ah, how sweet were 
the memories this day recalled, how gladly she 
hailed its coming; yet an undercurrent of sad 
feeling brought the tears to her eyes more than 
once. Her thoughts had flown first to her 
mother, then to the little church at Briarville 
and the friendly faces there that greeted her 
every Sunday. She knew them all, from the 
white-haired, venerable pastor down to the 
smallest child in the infant class. All, even 
those who seemed hard and unloving to others, 
had a smile for her, and Winnie’s heart swelled 
as she pictured herself going that day into a 
great city church where even the minister 
would be an utter stranger to her. 

Ah, if there had been one among her rela- 
tives who loved the Savior r, one to whom she 
could open her heart freely and who would 
whisper words of sympathy, she would not 
have felt so lonely. But even her kind uncle. 


AUNT GLORY. 


95 

even sweet Mary, slumbering so peacefully by 
her side, could not give her the sympathy and 
help she needed mosc. 

Winnie felt her heart growing so heavy she 
dared no longer indulge in this train of thought. 
Slipping out of bed, she dressed herself as noise- 
lessly as she had the day before and was soon 
seated by the window with her Bible in her 
hand. Turning to the Gospel of John, she 
read the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters, and 
though her eyes grew dim every once in a 
while, those divine words of comfort brought 
consolation to her heart. She remembered a 
sermon her pastor had preached from the text, 
“ I am the Vine, ye are the branches,” and after 
closing the book she sat for some moments re- 
calling different things he had said. 

“ Yes,” she thought, “ that ’s what I am, a lit- 
tle branch of the Vine, not a vine growing by 
myself. Oh, I 'm so glad to think that all my 
Christian life, any strength I have, must come 
from Jesus. What could I do alone? If I 
^ abide in him ’ he will take care of me and 
help me to be a faithful disciple. I need not 
be afraid and I ought not to be lonely with 
such a Friend to take care of me always.” 

The troubled heart had found comfort al- 
ready, and the first words of prayer that Win- 
nie breathed were full of thankfulness. Then 


96 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

with childlike trust she committed herself to 
the care of her Heavenly Father, asking that 
she might be indeed a “ living branch ” of the 
“Vine” and “bring forth much fruit” day by 
day. 

Rising, she seated herself by the window 
again. It was nearly half-past seven, but no one 
seemed stirring in the house as yet, and Win- 
nie, recollecting her aunt’s remark that they 
did not breakfast till nine o’clock on Sunday 
morning, resolved to remain up stairs for a 
while. Her eyes sought Mary’s placid face 
again, then wandered about the pretty room, 
examining it more minutely than they had the 
evening before. 

“What a high ceiling it has for an attic 
room,” she thought, “and two large windows.” 
Then she remembered what Mary had told her 
the evening before, that her father had had the 
windows put in after she had selected the cham- 
ber for her own. 

They were draped in white muslin, as was 
the pretty dressing-table, and looped back with 
broad blue ribbon. The pattern of the carpet 
was a vine, whose wood-colored leaves were in- 
terspersed with others of a deeper hue, and 
flowers corresponding to the shade of blue in 
the ribbon that confined the curtains. The fur- 
niture was wood-color, as was a case of shelves 


AUNT GLORY. 


97 


that held Mary’s books. On the top shelf were 
articles of bric-a-brac^ with a pretty French 
clock in the centre. An inviting -looking 
lounge and easy-chair were upholstered in cre- 
tonne which in pattern and tints was an excel- 
lent match for the carpet, and the table-cover 
was blue with a border of dark brown and 
wood-colored leaves. 

‘‘What a lovely room,” thought Winnie. 
“ Mary must have excellent taste. It is a pity, 
though, that the morning sun does not come in 
here,” gazing out through the window which 
overlooked the front garden. 

“ How I wish I could sleep with Mary all the 
time. She has such a kind, motherly way with 
her. Oh, dear ! I do dread to meet Corinne this 
morning,” she added with a sigh. 

She looked at the clock ; it was now a quar- 
ter of eight. Winnie fairly longed to be in the 
fresh air, and after another glance at Mary stole 
softly out of the room and down stairs. Her hat 
was in Corinne’s room, but she did not think of 
venturing in there. Unbolting the dining-room 
door with as little noise as possible, she went out 
into the garden, which though very small was 
a green, flowery little spot as pretty as skilful 
hands could make it. 

“ And who will escort Winnie to church this 


Winnie Loiimer's Visit. 


7 


98 WINNIE lorimer’s visit. 

morning?” asked Prof. Markham pleasantly, 
when breakfast was over. “ She will lose her 
way, I fear, if she goes alone.” 

Hilary glanced at Mrs. Markham. “If my 
mother and sisters think they can spare me, I 
shall be very happy to go with her. Only,” 
with a mischievous glance at his cousin, “she 
may have to instruct me how to behave, for I 
have only attended church twice since I was 
born.” 

Corinne’s eyes flashed angrily as she heard 
her brother’s offer, but before either she or 
Winnie could speak, Mrs. Markham said in a 
tone that showed some displeasure, 

“No, son, we cannot think of sparing you; 
but you can escort Winnie to church and then 
come back here and go with us. Can you be 
ready in twenty minutes, Winnie?” she asked, 
glancing at the clock. 

“Oh, yes,” replied the young girl, rising. 
“But,” she added timidly, “don’t you think I 
could find the church with a little direction 
from you? It’s too bad to give Hilary that 
trouble.” 

“ Don’t mention it,” said the boy with one of 
his comical looks ; “I’m only sorry it ’s so near.” 

Winnie smiled back at him as she left the 
room and hurried up stairs to dress. But in 
spite of his kindness her heart felt very heavy 


AUNT GLORY. 


99 


as she thought of her aunt and Corinne. Mrs. 
Markham was polite enough, but there was a 
suppressed displeasure in her manner that Win- 
nie could not help perceiving, and that made 
her very uncomfortable. As for Corinne, she 
had hardly deigned to say good-morning to her 
cousin and had kept her face haughtily averted 
from her during the meal. Winnie felt this 
unkindness very much, and had not her other 
cousins and her uncle kept up a constant stream 
of conversation, she could scarcely have borne 
it. As it was she felt glad to escape from the 
room. 

Prof. Markham had not seemed to notice his 
daughter’s behavior, but after Winnie had gone 
out he turned to her and said in a tone of the 
deepest displeasure, 

“Don’t let me have to speak to you again, 
Corinne, about your treatment of your cousin. 
It is simply shameful! You need not come 
down to the tea-table this evening unless you 
can make up your mind to treat her decently.” 

The angry tears rushed to Corinne’s eyes, the 
quick flush to her cheek. 

“ Perhaps you would like to send me out of 
the house,” she broke forth, “ and let her have 
my place altogether ; she seems to be taking it 
pretty fast, as it is. I wish she had never come 
here, the little mischief-making thing.” 


lOO WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

‘‘Corinne !” said her mother in the low, stern 
voice that never failed to bring the unruly girl 
to subjection. How dare you speak so to your 
father ? Go up stairs to my room. I shall have 
more to say to you presently.” 

Corinne obeyed without a word. She had 
never been held with a very tight rein by either 
of her parents, yet she stood in considerable awe 
of her mother, and knew that she was not to be 
trifled with. One flash of her eye was more 
effectual than a storm of words from a less de- 
termined character. 

Prof. Markham, who had been much hurt as 
well as displeased by his daughter’s outburst, sat 
for a moment pale and silent, looking down at 
the table. Then he rose abruptly and left the 
room in his turn. 

Mary loved herYather devotedly, and could 
not bear to have him wounded in any way. Her 
voice trembled as she said, “ Mother, I wish you 
would let Corinne know how much she hurt fa- 
ther’s feelings. Did you notice how pale and 
shocked he looked ?” 

“ Yes, daughter, and you may rest assured 
that I shall take Corinne severely to task for her 
behavior. But,” added Mrs. Markham, with a 
weary intonation in her voice, “ I must ^ay that 
I deeply regret myself that Winnie has become 
an inmate of our family. She is a nice enough 


AUNT GLORY. 


lOI 


girl, but she is so set in those peculiar opinions 
of hers — ” 

Mrs. Markham left the sentence unfinished, 
and Mary replied after a moment’s pause, “ Dear 
mother, how can you blame her when you con- 
sider her bringing up ? And she is very modest 
and unobtrusive; she never tries to force her 
opinions upon us. I confess I have taken a 
great fancy to the child myself.” 

So has your little brother,” chimed in Hil- 
ary. “ The name Winnie just suits her — she is 
such a winning, artless little creature.” 

^‘Well, for my part, I agree with mother,” 
Harriet remarked. ‘‘We have always been a 
very harmonious family till now, but Winnie 
comes in as a disturbing element.” 

“ Poor little girl ! She is not likely to do us 
much harm,” said Conrad rather scornfully. 
Then after a pause he added, “ Dr. Friedmann 
seems to have been much impressed by her 
beauty. I met him yesterday, and in the course 
of the conversation he asked me how ‘ little St. 
Catharine ’ was.” 

“Well, isn’t she lovely!” said Hilary enthu- 
siastically. “ What color would you call her hair 
now ?” 

“ A crocus-yellow, let us say,” rejoined Con- 
rad, smiling. “ Yes, she is very pretty, and she 
seems a very good, innocent girl into the bar- 


102 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

gain. But, mother,” glancing at his watch, 
“ are you going to put Corinne through a course 
of discipline in time for us to catch the eleven- 
forty train ?” 

Mrs. Markham could not help smiling back 
at her son, but she said quietly as she arose, “ I ’m 
not sure that I shall permit her to go with us.” 

'‘Oh, yes, mother,” all cried in one breath, 
and Hilary added, “ Half the enjoyment of the 
day would be lost without Corinne.” 

“ She is naughty, of course, but she gives a 
peculiar spice to any excursion or picnic,” said 
Conrad. “ For our own sakes we can’t afford 
to leave her behind.” 

“Where shall we meet the Fords?” Harriet 
asked of him, as Mrs. Markham left the room. 

“ At the station. Ah, here is Winnie, 

waiting to be shown the way to church.” 

As he spoke he could not help looking his 
admiration of the young girl. The soft, creamy 
tint of her dress harmonized well with her fair 
complexion and the delicate pink color in her 
cheeks. A wreath of lilies of the valley encir- 
cled her white chip hat, and sprays of golden 
hair peeped from beneath its broad brim or 
played about her neck and tiny ears. Her large 
eyes were, as Hilary had said, “ blue as forget- 
me-nots,” and looked out from her face with the 
innocent openness of a child. 


AUNT GLORY. 


103 


“ She is as lovely as a little angel,” thought 
Hilary, and wished again that he was to have his 
sweet cousin’s company that morning. 

We would better start at once,” he said, 
looking at his watch. “ It is a quarter past ten.” 

“How far is the church from here?” asked 
Winnie, as they went out of the front-door to- 
gether. 

“ Only a few blocks. Have you ever met Dr. 
Truman?” 

“ No. I have a letter to him from my minis- 
ter in Briarville, and that will make me feel a 
little less like a stranger,” said Winnie, with an 
involuntary sigh that, slight as it was, did not 
escape Hilary’s quick ear. 

“ It is too bad you have to go alone,” he re- 
plied. “Wait till next Sunday, and you can 
have my delightful company, Winnie. Isn’t 
that an inducement now ?” 

“That would be very nice,” said Winnie, 
smiling, “ and I ’ll go with you this evening, 
if you like. But,” she added, “that needn’t 
hinder my attending church this morning, you 
know.” 

“ Do you really want to go, or is it only from 
a sense of duty?” asked her cousin, bending on 
her a look of gentle scrutiny. 

“ I really want to go, Hilary,” Winnie replied 
as simply as a child might answer. “ Of course, 


104 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

I feel a little lonely at the thought of going into 
a strange church, but I shall soon feel at home 
there, I dare say.” 

‘‘ And do you really enjoy church ?” asked 
the boy. He had been brought up in a different 
world from Winnie’s, and was curious to see 
the workings of his cousin’s mind. One thing 
he felt sure of, that she would say nothing that 
was not the absolute truth. It was hardly possi- 
ble to be in Winnie’s company for an hour with- 
out discovering the perfect simplicity and sin- 
cerity of her character. She answered promptly 
now, 

“ Yes, very much.” 

“ And why ?” inquired Hilary. Excuse me,” 
he added, for Winnie’s blue eyes seemed to ask 
him if he were trifling with her. “ I am not put- 
ting these questions just to be inquisitive, dear 
cousin, I assure you.” 

It was not easy for Winnie to talk to others 
about the things most dear and sacred to her, 
and especially with one of whose sympathy she 
could not feel assured. The color rose in her 
cheeks as she asked, after a moment’s hesita- 
tion, 

‘^You are very fond of your home^ aren’t 
you, Hilary?” 

“ Of course I am,” answered the boy, who un- 
derstood at once the drift of her question. Then 


AUNT GLORY. 105 

he waited, curious to hear what she would say 
next. 

“ And why ?” asked Winnie, giving him such 
a sweet smile that Hilary felt as if it were the 
pleasantest thing in the world to be catechised 
by her. He was amused, besides, to find his own 
question coming back to him in this fashion. 

“ Well,” he said, giving her a smile in return, 
‘‘ there is every reason I should be. I have the 
best father and mother in the world and think 
everything of my brother and sisters. The at- 
mosphere of my home has always been a harmo- 
nious one ; our temperaments are different, to 
be sure, but we have similar tastes, are fond of 
books, music, pictures, etc., and above all of 
each other. And now, coz, what ’s your applica- 
tion of all this ? Do you mean to say that you 
have the same homelike feeling in regard to 
church?” 

‘‘ I feel that it ’s my Father’s house,” said 
Winnie with timid earnestness, ‘‘and that is 
one reason I love it. No earthly father, nor even 
my mother, could be so kind as he has been to 
me. I should have that feeling in any church, 
I think, even if I were a little lonely at first on 
account of being a stranger.” 

“Well, your other reasons?” asked the boy, 
with an encouraging smile. 

“Another reason is that there are so many 


I06 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

there who love God as their Father, who have 
believed in Jesus and try to keep his command- 
ments. Their temperaments may be very differ- 
ent, just as in your family, but they all agree in 
those things I spoke of, and that makes them 
brothers and sisters, and helps to make the 
church a homelike place, you see. It ’s so lovely 
to sing hymns together,” Winnie went on, al- 
most forgetful of self by this time, and with a 
feeling that brought tears to her eyes, “ to join 
in the minister’s prayer, and to feel that so 
many are praying, too, though you can’t hear 
a word they say. And then to hear the minister 
talk about Jesus and tell you just what to do to 
please him — that ’s the best of all, I think — ” she 
paused suddenly, her shyness coming back with 
a rush as she realized how earnestly she had 
been speaking. 

“ Well, here we are at the church,” said Hil- 
ary in his kindest tone, “ and I must bid you 
good-by for the present. I think I have had my 
sermon this morning,” he added, smiling, “and a 
very earnest sermon, too. Of course, we look on 
these things in a different light, but — ” 

“ Oh, I had no thought of preaching,” broke 
in Winnie with a blush. “And,” she added, 
rather archly, “if I did give you a sermon, I 
must thank you for furnishing me with the 
points of the discourse. Good-morning, Hilary, 


AUNT GLORY. loy 

and thank you very much for escorting me here. 
I wish you were coming in with me.” 

“ I wish so too,” replied the boy with perfect 
sincerity. “ You ’ll find no trouble in finding a 
seat, I suppose?” he added, lingering as if un- 
willing to leave her. 

“ Oh, no, some one will show me to a seat,” 
said Winnie, smiling, and with another friendly 
good-morning Hilary walked away. 

Winnie went up the steps, her heart flutter- 
ing a little, and entering the door of the church, 
paused and glanced timidly about her. What an 
unspeakable comfort it would have been to see 
just one familiar face. But a pleasant-looking 
usher approached her immediately and offered 
to show her to a seat. In another moment she 
found herself placed between a lady whose kind, 
motherly face attracted her at once and a young 
girl of about her own age. Both greeted her 
with such a pleasant smile that it did her heart 
good, but there was no time for any conversa- 
tion, as the service was beginning. 

Dr. Truman’s opening prayer brought un- 
speakable comfort to the little stranger, it was 
so simply worded, in the tone of one who talks 
to a beloved Father, so reverent, yet full of child- 
like confidence in the divine love that yearns 
to draw all men into its embrace. It seemed as 
if the pastor entered into the feelings of every 


I08 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

heart in that congregation. The poor, the sick, 
the sorrowing, the stranger, those troubled with 
doubts and temptations — all were, remembered 
in his petition with a tenderness that could not 
be satisfied to generalize, but dwelt upon every 
phase of suffering with loving solicitude. Yet 
the prevailing tone of the prayer was not one of 
sadness, but of joyful confidence in the love that 
was so ready to sympathize and heal. 

Winnie joined in the petition with all her 
heart. It seemed to her as if invisible wings 
were brooding over the congregation, the wings 
of the Almighty Father ; and the sense of that 
benignant, protecting Presence brought inex- 
pressible comfort and peace. And the Saviour ! 
Ah, he seemed to stand close by her side smi- 
ling away her fears, ready to listen to the 
faintest whisper of her and every troubled 
heart. What a thrill of tender joy went 
through her as towards the close of his prayer 
the minister pleaded that the kingdom of the 
Prince of peace might soon be established 
throughout the earth, that “the whispers of 
love might come to many in the dark habita- 
tions of cruelty, and the burdened be made 
free.” 

The prayer ended, and Dr. Truman gave out 
for the second hymn that beautiful one begin- 
ning: 


AUNT GLORY. 


109 


“Oh, Holy Ghost, the Comforter, 

How is thy love despised. 

While the heart yearns for sympathy 
And friends are idolized !” 

Winnie, as before, shared the hymn-book of the 
young girl beside her. She looked about sev- 
enteen or eighteen, and though not exactly 
pretty, she had such a bright, honest, kind face 
that Winnie had fallen in love with her at once. 
And to judge from the stolen glances the young 
girl cast at the stranger from time to time, the 
feeling was reciprocated. 

Dr. Truman’s sermon was on the Mission of 
the Comforter, and never was that theme more 
tenderly, more instructively presented. It was 
easy to see where the preacher got his inspira- 
tion. Such a sermon could only be the fruit of 
fervent prayer, of daily communion with God. 
And his utter lack of self-consciousness added 
greatly to the charm of his words. 

Winnie soon became absorbed in the ser- 
mon, as indeed were most of the people in the 
congregation. One passage went particularly 
to her heart and was for ever stamped on her 
remembrance. It was where the preacher com- 
pared the Holy Spirit “helping our infirmities” 
to a tender mother who gently puts the hands of 
her child together and breathes in his ear the 
words of the prayer she would have him say. 


no WINNIE lorimer’s visit. 

The thoughts of the motherless girl flew at 
once to the dear one by whose side she had so 
often knelt and who was now in the land of 
rest. No other image could have been so con- 
soling, so full of sweet suggestiveness. Never 
again did Winnie kneel in prayer without the 
consciousness of a more than motherly Pres- 
ence tenderly enfolding her and “making in- 
tercession,” when she in her weakness knew 
not what she should pray for as she ought. 

When the services were over the lady at 
whose side she was placed turned at once to 
speak to her. “You are a stranger here, are 
you not, my child?” she said, taking Winnie’s 
hand kindly in hers. 

“Yes, ma’am, but I hope I sha’n’t be a stran- 
ger long,” replied the young girl, smiling back 
into the sweet face. “ I have a letter from my 
church in Briarville,” she went on, “and one 
from my minister there to Dr. Truman. I 
should like to give them to him, but there are 
so many people talking to him now,” glancing 
timidly in the direction of the pastor. 

“Tell me your name and I will introduce 
you to him,” her new friend rejoined. “He 
will come this way presently.” 

“My name is Winnie Lorimer,” replied the 
young girl. 

“ And mine is Mrs. Aldrich,” said the lady, 


AUNT GLORY. 


Ill 


smiling. “ I am very glad you are going to be 
one of us, my dear, and trust you will soon feel 
at home here. Now let me make you acquainted 
with my husband and daughters.” 

“I do feel at home already,” said Winnie 
warmly, as the lady turned to speak to her hus- 
band, “you are so very kind.” 

Mr. Aldrich was a fine-looking man of about 
fifty. He had a very genial expression and 
gave the stranger a cordial welcome. As for 
Bessie, the young girl who had sat by Win- 
nie, she could hardly wait for her mother to 
introduce her. 

“ I ’m so glad you are going to join our 
church !” she said, pressing Winnie’s hand af- 
fectionately in both hers. “This is my sister 
Cicely,” presenting a young lady who must have 
been full two years older than herself. 

Cicely was a blonde like her mother ; a quiet 
girl, not so demonstrative as her sister, but her 
greeting of Winnie was very pleasant and kind. 

“Are you coming to Sunday-school this af- 
ternoon?” asked Bessie. “Don’t you want to 
join mother’s class?” she added almost in the 
same breath. “ There are fourteen young girls 
in it — I’m one of them. Mother’s a lovely 
teacher, and — ” 

“ Softly, softly, my daughter,” interposed 
Mrs. Aldrich with a smile. “ Let Winnie come 


1 12 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

as a visitor first and see how she enjoys it. She 
may prefer to join some other class. You ’ll ex- 
cuse my calling you by your first name?” she 
added, turning to the young girl, who responded 
eagerly, 

‘‘Oh, I ’m so glad to have you call me Win- 
nie, and I should just love to be in your class, 
Mrs. Aldrich !” 

“ Well, I should love to have you,” rejoined 
her new friend kindly, “ but we must first speak 
to Mr. Hartwell, the superintendent, about it. 
Ah, here comes Dr. Truman!” She and her 
husband shook hands with the pastor, and then 
Mrs. Aldrich presented Winnie. 

Comforted as she had been by Dr. Truman’s 
sermon and prayers, the young stranger felt a 
little afraid of him on more accounts than one. 
He was a man of dignified presence, and his 
keen gray eyes looked as if they could read 
every thought of your heart. Then Winnie 
had heard from one who had formerly been a 
member of his church that he could at times 
be very stern and sarcastic. 

Dr. Truman could indeed be stern when his 
indignation was roused by any exhibition of 
hypocrisy or cruelty; and at such times he 
would pour out scorching words that burned 
like fire into the conscience of the offender. 
And undoubtedly he could be sarcastic in the 


AUNT GLORY. 


II3 

presence of conceit or presumption; and a for- 
ward, obtrusive person, or one who sought to 
gain his favor by flattery (a thing he particu- 
larly detested), was liable to be rebuffed by him 
in a way not soon to be forgotten. But no man 
could be more gentle and tender than he with 
little children, with the sick and sorrowing, and 
with those who, conscious of their sinfulness, 
came to him for guidance and counsel. When 
Mrs. Aldrich introduced Winnie to him he re- 
ceived the timid young girl with fatherly kind- 
ness, glanced over her pastor’s letter, and wri- 
ting her address in his note-book, promised to 
call upon her very soon. Then he presented 
her to his wife, a tall, gracious, dark-eyed 
woman, whose lovely face and sweet ways won 
Winnie’s heart at once. She, like Dr. Truman, 
gave the young girl a cordial welcome, made 
her acquainted with her “ young people,” and 
after inquiring her address told her she should 
call with her husband some evening. The 
heart of the young girl leaped at the words, 
for she thought how much she should like her 
uncle and his family to become acquainted with 
Dr. and Mrs. Truman. 

‘‘They couldn’t help liking them,” she 
thought, “and who knows what an influence 
they might have ? I do wish dear uncle could 
have a real good talk with Dr. Truman. He 
8 


Winnie l.oiimer’s Visit. 


1 14 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

would make things plain to him, I do believe, 
and lead him to put his trust in Christ. How 
much sympathy he showed in his prayer for 
those who are struggling with doubt and unbe- 
lief and can see no way of escape.” 

This thought was uppermost in Winnie’s 
mind as she walked out of church by Bessie 
Aldrich’s side, and for a few minutes that 
young maiden found her new friend a very ab- 
stracted listener. Then Winnie roused herself 
with a start and at once became interested in 
what Bessie was telling her about her mother’s 
class in Sunday-school. 

She has them all to tea once a month,” she 
said, “and some of them who have no real 
home of their own say that it is the greatest 
comfort to them, and that they look forward to 
it day and night. Two young girls have come 
into the class lately who work in a store all day 
long and lodge in a dismal little attic-room 
scarcely big enough to turn round in. One of 
them was sick not long ago, and after mother 
had been to see her she sent Cicely and me 
round with some delicacies she thought she 
would like. Cicely and I could have cried to 
think of those poor things cramped up in a 
hole like that after standing on their feet all 
day long.” 

“ Ah, yes, how hard it must be,” said Win- 


AUNT GLORY. II5 

nie pitifully. ‘^I should like to know those 
girls,” she added after a pause. 

Oh, mother will introduce you to them and 
the rest of the class this afternoon,” Bessie re- 
joined. was sure, Winnie,” she went on, 
“ from the looks of your face and the way you 
listened to the sermon this morning, that you 
would sympathize with the dear girls who have 
so little brightness in their lives.” 

“ Any one with half a heart must sympathize 
with them, I should think,” said Winnie. “ But,” 
she went on, “ I know very little, Bessie, about 
real poverty and distress. You must come to 
the great city to learn about those things I sup- 
pose. There was one family in Briarville, an 
Irish family, that was in real want at one time, 
but as soon as people found it out everybody 
was ready to help them.” 

^‘Ah, it’s different here,” said Bessie, sha- 
king her head. ‘‘It’s such a hurrying, rush- 
ing life, and, as mother says, people do n’t stop 
to think half the time how many hearts are 
breaking all around them. I often think of 
those lines Dr. Truman quoted one Sunday : 

“ ‘ Evil is wrought by want of thought 
As well as want of heart.’ ” 

Winnie’s blue eyes filled with tears. “I 
need to remember those lines myself,” she 


Il6 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

said, after a pause. “How much feeling Dr. 
Truman seems to have for the poor !” 

“ Yes, his heart is as big as a house,” replied 
Bessie, in her impulsive fashion. 

“I like him very much, and Mrs. Truman 
too. Has she a class in Sunday-school?” 

“ Yes, a class of young men, and it has grown 
very much since she began to take charge of it 
last spring. She has the best influence over 
them and they think everything of her.” 

“Well, I must stop here,” said Winnie, 
pausing at her uncle’s gate. “Where do you 
live, Bessie?” 

“ On Mortimer Street. It can’t be ten min- 
utes’ walk from here,” replied the young girl, 
her face lighting up with pleasure. “ How nice 
that we are so near together. We must be real 
neighborly, Winnie.” 

“ Oh, I do hope that we shall be,” said Win- 
nie earnestly. At this moment Mr. and Mrs. 
Aldrich came up to them. 

“ Well, Bessie-, we should hardly have over- 
taken you if you had not walked more slowly 
than usual,” said Mrs. Aldrich, smiling. “ I 
stayed a moment or two longer to talk with 
Mrs. Truman.” 

“ And where is Cicely ?” 

“ Oh, some of her little Sunday-school schol- 
ars got hold of her; she will follow us soon.” 


AUNT GLORY. 


II7 

“ Well, Winnie,” turning affectionately to the 
young girl, “ I am delighted to find that you live 
so near to us.” 

“So am I,” said Winnie, clasping the hand 
Mrs. Aldrich held out in both of her own. 
“ You will come to see me, wont you?” she added, 
“and Bessie and Miss Cicely too?” 

“ We certainly shall, my child, and shall hope 
to see you often at our house.” 

“ Oh, I should love to come, Mrs. Aldrich !” 
Winnie replied. 

“Shall I call for you this afternoon on my 
way to Sunday-school?” put in the impulsive 
Bessie. 

“ Oh, yes, please do ; I should be so glad to 
have you.” 

“ Well, we will say good-moming now, hoping 
to meet you again this afternoon,” said Mrs. 
Aldrich, giving Winnie another sweet smile as 
they parted. 

“ I do think,” said Bessie, as she walked along 
with her father and mother, “that that is the 
dearest young girl I ever saw. And she seems 
so sweet and good.” 

“ Yes, she ’s a very winning little creature,” 
Mrs. Aldrich replied. “ I wonder, William,” ad- 
dressing her husband, “ if her uncle can be the 
Prof. Markham brother Frank was telling you 
about ?” 


Il8 WINNIE L9RIMER’S VISIT. 

I think it must be. He lives on Harmon 
Street.” 

Do you remember what he told us about 
Mrs. Markham, that she is decidedly skeptical in 
her ideas, and how hurtful her influence upon 
her husband and children has been in that re- 
spect ?” 

“Yes. She’s a very bright, clever woman, 
this Mrs. Markham, quite well known as a writer 
on scientific subjects.” 

“I feel, William, that Winnie will need all 
the help that we can give her.” 

“ Yes, indeed ! I am glad that she is coming 
under your gentle guardianship, my dear, and 
that Dr. and Mrs. Truman seem so interested in 
the child. We must try to make her feel at 
home in the church and in our own house, for 
the atmosphere at her uncle’s is a dangerous one 
for such a gentle, susceptible young lady as she 
seems to be.” 

It was late in the afternoon. Winnie had re- 
turned from Sunday-school and was now resting 
on the lounge in Mary’s room. The day had 
been a very happy one, and she could smile now 
at her misgivings of the morning. She had 
found Mrs. Aldrich one of the kindest and most 
interesting of teachers, and had received a 
hearty welcome, not only from the girls in the 


AUNT GLORY. 


1 19 

class, but from the superintendent and a number 
of others to whom Mrs. Aldrich had introduced 
her. Her heart was full of thankfulness, yet 
again and again her thoughts would turn to the 
dear little church in distant Briarville, and fer- 
vent were the prayers she breathed for the pros- 
perity of those she loved so well. 

As Winnie lay thus on the lounge she heard 
again the voice of the old colored woman in the 
room below. At once she felt the impulse to go 
to her. She jumped up and went softly down 
stairs and tapped at Aunt Glory’s door. It was 
opened immediately by the old woman, whose 
face broke into a smile at the sight of Winnie. 

Bress you, honey,” she said, “ I ’s right 
glad to see you. Linda done tell me about yer, 
and I ’ve been watchin’ for your step dese two 
hours, but I reckon I must hev fell asleep jest 
’bout de time you come in. I did n’t git back 
till nigh three, myself, for it ’s a good ways to 
my chu’ch, and I took dinner with my niece who 
lives in de next street from it. But what you 
waitin’ for, honey ? Come in, come in, and make 
yourself com for’ble. Set right down in dat big 
cheer thar by de winder.” 

No, indeed. Aunt Glory,” said Winnie, de- 
clining the roomy armchair which the old wo- 
man pointed out. “ You take that, and I ’ll sit 
on this ottoman beside you.” As she spoke she 


20 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


gently led her back to the chair she had left 
and placed herself by her side. 

The room was small, but comfortably fur- 
nished and spotlessly neat. Aunt Glory was 
nearly seventy, a majestic, fine-looking old wo- 
man, black as ebony, but with regular features 
and an eye that had lost little of its youthful 
brightness. An orange-colored silk handker- 
chief was twisted round her head in the form 
of a turban, and she wore a capacious white 
apron over her neat black cashmere gown. 

“And so this is Miss Winnie ?” she said, look- 
ing benignantly down upon the young girl. 
“ How old are you, my lamb ?” 

“ I was eighteen last month,” replied Winnie. 

“ Lor, now, I did n’t think you was over fif- 
teen or sixteen ! And how did you come to hear 
about ole Aunt Glory, chile ?” 

“ I heard you singing last evening, and asked 
Cousin Mary who you were. She says you ’ve 
been with them ever since she can remember,” 
Winnie rejoined. 

“ Yes, I was born on Mars’ Markham’s place 
way down in South Carliny. When he and old 
Mis’ Markham died ’bout twenty years ago, I 
come north to live with Mas’r Everard, who was 
teachin’ in dese parts. He ’n been married den 
’bout eight years. He was allers my favorite 
’mong dem ten chillun, Mas’r Everard was. Ah 



iiiiiiil 


mwn mww 






I 

ili !' !:! i 




■f 




tv •’•I 




***••. 


!<)*»! 


•••if. 


«o.* 




ill II, lllll ll lllllllllllll lfe 





,ii 




-“'Jw 


Winnie Lorimer’s Visit. Page 121 











AUNT GLORY. 


I2I 


well! to tink dat all but four has been took 
away, while ole Aunt Glory is still left on dis 
side ob de ribber Jordan, waitin’ for de soun’ ob 
de chariot wheels.” 

Thrilled by the old woman’s words and some- 
thing in her manner, Winnie looked up into her 
face with a mixture of reverence and tenderness. 
Aunt Glory bent forward and laid her hand 
upon her golden head. 

“ Is you one ob de Good Shepherd’s lambs, 
honey ?” 

“ I believe I am. Aunt Glory,” Winnie gently 
replied. 

“ Bress de Lord for dat 1” said the old woman 
fervently. “ And how long is it sence you begun 
to lub de Saviour, chile?” 

“ I ’ve loved him ever since I was a very little 
girl.” 

Ah, dat ’s de time to come,” Aunt Glory re- 
plied, in de mornin’ ob life, when de birds are 
singin’, and de plants and de young, tender 
grass is all sparklin’ with dew, and eberyt’ing 
looks so fresh and sweet and bright. Dat ’s the 
time when de heart ought to open to Christ jest 
like a little tender flower unfoldin' to de sun- 
shine. And has de Saviour grown more precious 
to you, honey, as de years went on?” 

‘'Oh, yes. Aunt Glory, and especially since 
my dear mother died.” Winnie’s voice was 


122 WINNIE LO rimer’s VISIT. 

trembling now, and there were tears in her soft 
blue eyes. Aunt Glory’s own eyes grew moist, 
and she said tenderly, 

“ * He shall carry de lambs in his bosom,’ 
dat ’s what de Bible says ; and oh ! what lovin’ 
care de Good Shepherd must take ob a lamb dat 
has lost its mother. He knows how ’pendent it 
was on her, and dat it needs de most tender nur- 
sin’ and watch-care.” 

Winnie could not speak, but she laid her 
head against the kind old woman’s shoulder. 
Aunt Glory stroked the bright hair in silence 
for a few moments. 

“ Your mother lubbed de Saviour too, dear ?” 

“ Oh, yes, oh, yes, Aunt Glory.” 

''I fought- it must be so. When a child 
comes to Jtsus as young as you did, we may be 
sure dat she had a pious mother, who gabe her 
to de Lord in prayer, as Hannah did Samuel 
before de little one knew anyf ing about it, and 
trained her up arterwards in his blessed ways. 
And oh, honey, take comfort in de thought dat 
she ’members you in heaven and lubs you more 
dan ebber. Why, lub is de bery atmospear ob 
de place; dey drinks it in wid ebery bref dey 
draw ; and de Lord, who, de ’postle John says, is 
lub itself, wouldn’t be noways pleased to hab 
his heabenly childern forgit der dear ones here 
below.” 


AUNT GLORY. 


123 


“ You comfort me so !” sobbed Winnie, who 
felt impelled to open her heart to this old col- 
ored woman as she had to no earthly friend 
since her mother died. “O Aunt Glory, my 
heart has just ached for my mother ! It seems 
sometimes as if it would break, I long so for her. 
Often in my sleep I Ve felt her arms around me 
and talked with her, and oh I felt so lonesome 
and so dreary when I waked up and found that 
it was all a dream.” 

There was a moment’s silence, and then 
Aunt Glory said in a faltering voice, 

“ Honey, I ’ve lost all — all dose nearest and 
dearest to me on arth — father, mother, brothers 
and sisters, and, hardest of all, my dear husband 
and chilluns. But why should I say ‘ lost,’ when 
dey all died in de faith and is jes’ waitin’ for me 
on de odder side ? Ah ! what a joyful day it ’ll 
be for de pore old colored woman when she goes 
to meet her kind Lord whom she ’s loved so 
many years, and dose dear ones who went home 
before her. And you, lamb, when your time 
comes, will feel your mother’s arms around you, 
and be shore den dat it a’ n’t a dream.” 

Winnie was comforted beyond expression, 
and after a moment or two was able to raise her 
head and smile through her tears into the old 
woman’s face. Aunt Glory patted her on the 
head as if she had been a child, but did not 


124 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

speak herself again for a little while. Then she 
said cheerfully, 

“ And whar did you go to chu’ch to-day, my 
lamb?” 

“ To Dr. Truman’s. I expect to join there.” 

'' Ah, dat ’s where Dr. Truman preaches ; 
he ’s a good man, he is, and mighty interestin’ 
too. I ’s been to hear him myself, though I gin- 
'rally goes to my own chu’ch.” 

‘‘ I liked him very much, and Mrs. Truman 
too ; and he preached a beautiful sermon. And, 
oh. Aunt Glory, I ’ve found such a lovely Sun- 
day-school teacher.” She went on to give an 
account of her day to the old woman, who lis- 
tened with sympathetic interest. 

T’ank de Lord dat you ’s so fond of his 
house and his people !” she said when Winnie 
had finished. I was so glad when Linda tole 
me you was goin’ to chu’ch dis momin\ And 
oh, honey, I do hope you wont get into no car’- 
less ways. Dey ’s dear people you ’ve come 
among, but you must see for yerself dat de 
Lord Jesus a’ n’t made welcome under dis roof. 
Temptations will meet you here dat you neber 
’countered before, and I feel as if I must gib you 
a word ob warnin’. Never neglect your chu’ch 
or your Sunday-school or your pra’r-meetin’ for 
anyt’ing else, and above all, keep close to your 
Saviour, darlin’. He wants yer to lean on him, 


AUNT GLORY 


125 


for he knows you ’ve no strength ob your own, 
and de Comforter, de Holy Spirit, whom he has 
promised to dose who lub him, will guide you 
and teach you and do his sweet work in your 
heart.” 

“That reminds me of some things Dr. Tru- 
man said this morning,” Winnie replied. “ Do 
you know. Aunt Glory, I never thought much 
about the work of the Holy Spirit till I heard 
that sermon. I do love the Saviour and trust 
in him, I ’m sure of that, and I want to please 
him in everything, though it’s so easy to do 
wrong. Is this the work of the Holy Spirit, 
then, and could it go on without my know- 
ing it?” 

Aunt Glory smiled. “ If a flower could hev 
its little t ’oughts an’ speak ’em out, it might n’t 
be able to say much ’bout de sunshine dat it hed 
opened its leaves to and dat was nestlin’ in its 
bit of a cup — p’r’aps wouldn’t even know its 
name. But de sun shines dar, all de same, 
nourishin’ de flower and gibin’ it its sweet 
smell and lubly colors. Do n’t you worry, 
honey, dat you didn’t understand ’bout de 
Holy Spirit. Jesus himself said dat it was like 
de wind — you hear it soundin’, but you can’t tell 
whar it comes from nor whidder it goes. Only 
tank de Lord dat he gave you grace arly to 
open your heart to His love.” 


126 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Winnie sat quietly happy, pondering her 
words, when the sound of the , tea-bell broke 
the silence that had fallen between them. 

“ Dar, honey, dat ’s for you, and you must be 
hungry by dis time. Come in agin and see de 
ole colored woman. I jest lub to hev you wid 
me.” 

^‘And I just love to be with you and hear 
you talk,” said Winnie. “ I have n’t felt so com- 
forted since my mother died,” she added in a 
low voice that had tears in it again. 

De Lord bress you, honey !” replied the old 
woman. “ It does de ole pilgrims good, too, to 
talk wid de little ones; der hearts is so fresh 
and warm.” 

“ And I want to hear you sing. Aunt Glory. 
Will you sing for me next time?” 

Sartain I will, dear, if it ’ll be any comfort 
to you, dough de ole woman’s voice a’n’t as 
strong as it was. But dar’s de tea-bell agin. 
Next time we git to talkin’ we must keep track 
ob de clock !” 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 12/ 


CHAPTER V. 

EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 

October 2, 18 — . It’s three weeks to-day 
since I came here. School begins next week. 
I must say I dread going among strange girls, 
but Corinne, who has grown very kind again, 
says she will introduce me to her particular 
friends and do all she can to make me feel at 
home. 

I have a room of my own now adjoining 
hers. I think Mary must have talked the mat- 
ter over with Aunt Elizabeth; at any rate she 
told me nearly a week ago that she thought it 
best for young girls to sleep alone, and that 
this little chamber was to be mine henceforth. 
It ’s a lovely room and I do enjoy it ! 

My choicest treasure, my beloved mother’s 
picture, hangs over the bureau, where my eyes 
can rest upon it the first thing when I awake. 
Ah, sweet, sweet mother! She has that lovely 
smile upon her face that I ’ve seen so often. I 
can almost fancy that the dear lips move and 
that I can hear her say, '‘Good-morning, dar- 
ling child!” And since I talked with Aunt 
Glory about her she seems so very, very near. 


128 WINNIE LO rimer’s VISIT. 

The painting of father (my own dear fa- 
ther, who died when I was scarcely two years 
old) hangs about midway between mother’s 
portrait and the door. Over my little table I 
have hung that lovely engraving of the Good 
Shepherd which mother gave me so long ago. 
There are three pictures in . the room that be- 
long to Aunt Elizabeth, and one of them is 
such a beautiful thing! It represents Aurora 
standing on tiptoe to sip the dew from the 
morning glory, and, as uncle says, it has the 
very dew and freshness of the early morning 
in it. 

Dear Sophie Chesnutwood’s painting of 
pond-lilies hangs over the washstand. I have 
had several letters from her and Clive since I 
came here and they ’ve been such a comfort. 
She seems like a dear sister to me, and Clive 
like an elder brother. He is six years older 
than we are (Sophie and I are just of an age), 
and we’ve always looked up to him so! Not 
that he ’s a bit priggish ; he ’s too modest and 
too genial for that; but he always seemed to 
know somehow just what is the wise thing and 
the right thing to do ; and he ’s such a perfect 
gentleman. 

As for vSophie, she ’s a darling ! I ’ve a num- 
ber of girl friends of whom I ’m very fond, but 
she ’s the dearest of them all. And she and her 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 1 29 

brother are both such lovely Christians! Ah, 
when shall I see them again ! It almost broke 
my heart to say good-by to them. 

It was Sophie who made me promise to keep 
this journal, and herself presented the dear lit- 
tle book. But I am ashamed to say that this is 
only the second jentry I have made in it. 

As I said when I began, Corinne has grown 
very kind again. Oh, if she will only keep so! 
She is so bright and attractive and original and 
really warm-hearted. Nobody could help being 
fascinated by her. .But when her temper is 
roused or she chooses to be sarcastic, she can 
say such cruel, stinging things — things that 
make me wince for others as well as for myself ! 

Mrs. Aldrich entertains her Sunday-school 
class to-morrow evening, as she does once every 
month. I am going around early to-morrow 
morning (as she requested) to help her and 
Bessie with their arrangements and to take 
lunch with them. I feel at home there al- 
ready, and much interested in what Bessie has 
told me about these evening gatherings of the 
class at their house. But I must not write a 
word more, as it is past my bed-time already. 

October 4. I went round to the Aldriches 
yesterday morning, and found Bessie and Cicely 
in the large cheery sitting-room. A basket of 
flowers stood on the table, and they were tying 
9 


Wiunle Lorinier's Visit. 


130 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Up tiny bouquets and placing tbem in fresh 
water. 

“Ah, there you are, Winnie,” said Bessie 
jubilantly. “We need your artistic eye and 
nimble fingers here. And now Cicely can sit 
down and rack her brains for verses while you 
and I tie up the bouquets.” 

“ Perhaps I shall impress Winnie into the 
‘poetry’ business,” said Cicely, as she kissed me 
smilingly. “ I am not much of a poet anyway, 
and I feel sometimes. Miss Bessie, as if my 
brain were running dry. Just think, Winnie ! 
Once every month I am expected to furnish a 
verse for each girl’s plate, and there ’s not a soul 
in the house to help me.” 

“Well, what do you expect?” asked Bessie, 
who had stopped to give me a hug and a kiss 
and resumed her work immediately. “ I do n’t 
think either father or mother could make a 
rhyme to save their lives, and I take after them 
in that if in nothing else.” 

“ If you were only willing that I should quote 
some of the poetry !” said Cicely. “ I could pick 
out lovely verses for the girls, in that case.” 

“ No doubt,” replied Bessie good-humoredly, 
“ and you can if you like. But you know your- 
self, dear, the girls would n’t prize them half so 
much as if you wrote them.” 

“Deluded damsels,” said Cicely. “Well,” 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 131 

retreating with a little sigh of resignation to 
a writing-table near by, “ I may as well set to 
work, I suppose. Winnie, come and help me 
when you are through with the bouquets, there ’s 
a darling. I ’m sure the girls would be de- 
lighted to know that you had a hand in some of 
the verses.” 

'‘And Fm sure they would be highly dis- 
gusted,” said I, who was already at work on the 
flowers. “Otherwise I should be very glad to 
help you, my dear. I never made but one verse 
in my life, and that was when I was a little 
girl between eight and nine years old. I had 
found three drowned flies in a glass of water, 
and after putting them in a paper box and 
strewing them with flowers, I buried them ten- 
derly in the garden. And this is the epitaph I 
wrote over them on a little wooden tombstone : 

‘ Here lies 
The flies.’ 

You can judge from that how much of the 
‘poetic flame’ I have in me.” 

Both girls laughed, and Cicely said, “ If the 
flame was kindled at so early an age, a little 
encouragement might fan it to a blaze now.” 

“ More likely it would go out in smoke,” said 
I, shaking my head. “What lovely flowers, 
Bessie,” selecting some creamy tea-rose buds 
from the basket and tying them up with mign- 


132 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

onette and a sprig of scarlet geranium. “ They 
come from your greenhouse, I suppose ?” 

‘‘Yes. Aren’t they beautiful ?” said Bessie, 
her bright, honest face aglow with pleasure as 
she bent over the fragrant basket. “We put a 
little bouquet by every girl’s plate, you see, and 
they are delighted both with their flowers and 
their verses. These carnations I shall give to 
Lurinda Jackson, as she is particularly fond of 
them. Louise Cole loves white roses and violets 
best of all, and that little nosegay you are put- 
ting up will be just the thing.” 

“ Here it is all ready for her,” said I, after 
adding some rose-geranium. As I spoke I 
placed the fragrant little bouquet in water by 
the side of the one I had arranged a moment 
before. “ Let me see,” I went on, “ Lurinda 
and Louise are the young girls you told me 
about the first Sunday I met you.” 

“Yes, the girls who work in a store, and who 
have such a cheerless home. These moss-rose 
buds I am going to give to Kitty Corwin, that 
sweet-faced girl with soft black eyes who at- 
tracted you so, Winnie. She works in a factory 
and has an invalid mother and two little sisters 
who are dependent upon her for their support. 
Just think of it, Winnie, and she a young girl 
scarcely sixteen years old. But a brighter, 
cheerier little body you never saw.” 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE'S JOURNAL. 1 33 

Dear girl ! I ’d like to know her better. 
Do the little sisters go to school ?” 

“ One of them, but the eldest has to stay at 
home with the mother, who is able to do very 
little work. Mother has taken her and the 
little daughter riding several times, and poor 
Mrs. Corwin said it really put new life into 
her — she felt like a different creature ! She is a 
real sweet woman, Winnie, so gentle and with a 
natural refinement about her, and she ’s such a 
lovely Christian ! Mother says it does her very 
heart good to talk with her.” 

“And I Ve no doubt it does her very heart 
good to talk with dear Mrs. Aldrich,” said I. 
“Ah, Bessie,” with a sigh, “if all rich people 
were like you dear folks, thinking only of 
making others good and happy, how much sun- 
shine they could make in the world.” 

“ It depends more on the disposition of the 
person than on the amount of money he pos- 
sesses, this ‘making of sunshine,’ I think,” 
Bessie replied with a smile. “ Father said once 
that if mother were transported to the poorest 
hovel she would make the atmosphere bright 
for all those around her. And look at Kitty 
Corwin, working all day long in a factory and 
then devoting herself to her mother and little 
sisters in the evening, never speaking a cross 
or complaining word, Mrs. Corwin tells us, from 


134 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

morning till night. And the neighbors tell of 
many a little act of kindness done to them. 
Think of that from a girl working nine hours 
a day in a factory. Does n’t she deserve more 
credit for the ‘sunshine’ she makes about her 
than one who lives in a luxurious home and has 
everything in her surroundings to make her 
comfortable and happy?” 

“ Perhaps she does,” I answered, smiling. 
“ Yet how much sadder this world would be but 
for the people who have the means to carry 
out what their kind hearts prompt them to do. 
But, Bessie, how does Kitty find the time to 
come to Sunday-school?” 

“A cousin of Mrs. Corwin’s spends every 
Sunday afternoon with her, and Kitty and her 
sister Rosa take turns at coming to church in 
the morning.” 

So we talked on while arranging the bou- 
quets. Then Bessie was called out of the room 
and I turned to see how Cicely was getting on. 
She sat with a pencil in one hand, knitting her 
brows over a piece of paper on which she had 
jotted down half a dozen verses or so. I felt 
sorry for her, she looked so careworn, and with- 
out saying a word to her I fished out an old 
envelope from the waste-paper basket, and retir- 
ing to a window began to scribble upon it with 
a pencil I found in my pocket. I worked away 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 1 35 

for some moments, and then, though ill-pleased 
with the result, approached poor Cicely once 
more. 

“ I ’ve tried again and again, dear,” I faltered 
out, “ and this is the best I can do. I ’m afraid 
you will laugh at it, but — ” 

Cicely caught the envelope eagerly from my 
hand, read the verse, and then waving the paper 
about her head exclaimed triumphantly, “ I see 
light ahead ! Sit down this moment, you little 
dear, and write me as many more as you can ! 
Then you must copy them in your best hand on 
these cards,” showing as she spoke a pile of 
them that lay on the writing-desk. 

But, Cicely dear, I ’m so afraid the verse is 
not good enough.” 

“ It ’s as good as any of mine at all events,” 
Cicely rejoined, ^‘and the girls will be de- 
lighted.” 

I laid down the piece of paper she had given 
me. 

“ Cicely,” I said resolutely, I wont write 
one line more unless you promise not to tell the 
girls whose verses they are.” 

Well, well, you dear little goosie, have your 
own way about it,” laughed Cicely. “ I ’ll tell 
them I was assisted by a friend. But it is fool- 
ish of you to feel so about it, Winnie.” 

I took up the paper again, saying, “You 


136 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

should have my cousin Corinne here. She could 
turn off half a dozen verses while I was ham- 
mering out one.” 

“ I hope I may meet her some time,” replied 
Cicely, and then we were both silent for a 
while. I contrived with great difficulty to make 
four verses more and then broke down, declar- 
ing that my brain was exhausted. Cicely, who 
is much readier at the business, laughed, and 
thanking me said she would write the rest, but 
that I must copy what I had done. So selecting 
five of the pretty gilt-edged cards I set to work. 
While I was engaged in this way Bessie 
entered. 

“Excuse me for being gone so long,” she 
said. “ Mamma wanted me to do an errand for 
her. Winnie, what are you about there? Has 
Cicely actually inveigled you into writing some 
‘ poetry’ ? ” 

“ I have written some rhymes, such as they 
are,” I replied. “ But do n’t dignify them by the 
name of ‘poetry.’ And you must promise, like 
Cicely, not to tell who wrote them, or I ’ll throw 
my verses in the fire.” 

“ Promise her, Bessie, do,” exclaimed Cicely 
in alarm. “ I believe the absurd child is capa- 
ble of doing it, though really she has no need 
to be ashamed of her verses.” 

“Well, I’ll promise,” said. Bessie merrily, 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 1 37 

“ and I ’m glad you found an assistant, poor Cis. 
And now I must go and help in the arrange- 
ment of the parlors. Will you join us, girls, 
when you are through there ?” 

We finished copying the verses and then 
followed her into the large, beautiful parlors, 
where Mrs. Aldrich was at work with Bessie 
and a servant-girl. Mrs. Aldrich gave me, as 
usual, a most affectionate greeting — she seems 
like a mother to me already. She and Bessie 
were arranging flowers in the vases. I turned 
from them to look with some wonder at the girl, 
who was placing chairs in rows across the back 
parlor. 

*‘Are you wondering what she is about?” 
asked Bessie, smiling. “ Mamma has engaged 
Miss Harmon, our elocution teacher at the Bell- 
mer Institute, to come and read to the girls this 
evening. She is a very fine reader and they 
will enjoy hearing her, I think.” 

shall for one,” said I, “ and I Ve no doubt 
the others will. But do you need so many 
chairs?” 

‘‘Oh, yes. Father’s Sunday-school class is 
coming in the evening. He has twenty young 
men under his charge. They take tea here 
once a month by themselves.” 

“ How lovely of your mother to do such 
things,” said I in a low voice. 


138 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

“ Well, she enjoys it, and so do the rest of 
ns. Last month we had quite a concert. Mamma 

engaged the Club to play for us, and Miss 

Arnold sang. She is the contralto in church, 

and has one of the loveliest voices you ever 
heard. The girls were all delighted, and so 
were father’s ‘boys,’ as he calls them, not to 
speak of the rest of us.” 

At this moment Mrs. Aldrich’s three-year-old 
twins, Jamie and Jessie, peeped into the room. 
The moment they spied me they rushed at me 
with a scream of delight. 

“ Oh, Winnie, Winnie, turn into the darden 
and play wiv us,” they cried, embracing me 
with their little fat arms. 

I bent down to kiss both the sweet faces, one 
looking out from under a Scotch cap, the other 
from a dainty white bonnet. “Turn into the 
darden,” they repeated, trying to pull me in the 
direction of the door. Bessie interposed in a 
tone of good-humored authority. 

“ Now, little ones, we positively cannot allow 
you to turn Winnie into a nurse-girl every time 
she comes into the house.” 

“ I should like nothing better than to go into 
the garden with them,” said I, as the children 
still clung about me, “ unless I can do something 
to help you here.” 

“ Thank you very much, my dear,” said Mrs. 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 139 

Aldrich, with a motherly smile at the children 
and me. ‘‘You have been a great deal of help 
to us already. But as there are several of us at 
work here, we do n’t need to tax you any further. 
Go into the sitting-room, you and Cicely, and 
rest yourselves a while. Adele will look after 
the children.” 

“ I do n’t feel a bit tired,” said I, “ and I 
should just enjoy a romp with these dear little 
rogues.” 

“ Well, just as you like, my dear,” replied Mrs. 
Aldrich ; “ but do n’t let them impose upon you.” 

We left the parlor, Jamie and Jessie capering 
with delight, and found Adele, the pretty little 
French bonne ^ waiting outside, with her arms 
very full of the dear baby. She is a very nice 
girl, and Mrs. Aldrich said she brought a letter 
of recommendation from her pastor in France 
giving her the best of characters. 

Ad^le gave me a bright smile when she saw 
me, and after bidding me good-morning, added, 
“ Eh bien ! Dey haf already seized upon made- 
moiselle, ces enfants !” 

“ Yes, and I am glad to have them seize upon 
me,” laughed I as I bent forward to kiss Baby 
Margaret. Then I went with Jamie and Jessie 
through the dining-room into the large, beauti- 
ful garden, where Ad^le soon appeared, wheel- 
ing baby in her carriage. 


140 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

I do enjoy the Aldriches’ garden so much. 
Uncle’s house is very pleasant and homelike, 
but the yard is very small. It makes a country 
girl like me feel rather cramped and shut in, 
somehow, to have to go into the streets when- 
ever I want out-door air. 

But the Aldriches’ yard is a perfect delight 
to me, and is kept in such beautiful order by 
Donald Burns, their old Scotch gardener. There 
is a smooth lawn in front, where a fountain 
plays. Here are beds of plants with richly- 
tinted leaves, but the large flower-garden lies 
east of the house. The summer blossoms are 
gone, but there are quantities of asters, dahlias, 
and other autumn flowers. In the rear is the 
kitchen-garden, where vegetables and different 
kinds of berries flourish in their season ; and 
here also is the hot-house and a number of 
fruit-trees. Perhaps it ’s because I ’m such a 
country girl, but I take almost as much pleasure 
in this garden as in the other. It ’s a real de- 
light to me to walk among the great, generous 
beds of vegetables and to watch the progress of 
the squashes and the pumpkins, and to look up 
at the fruit-trees with their richly-laden boughs. 

Neat gravel walks wind here and there 
through the grounds, and the children and I 
have many a fine race over them. Yesterday 
the air was so exhilarating — you felt as if you 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 141 

wanted to be on the spring all the time— and I 
liad a splendid romp with Jamie and Jessie. 

October 5. I had to put by my journal just 
at that point, and will now come right to the 
description of the evening at the Aldriches. 

The girls began to come in between six and 
seven o’clock, those employed in stores or facto- 
ries arriving later than the others. They were 
taken up stairs to lay aside their hats and wraps, 
and were then shown into the sitting-room. Mr. 
Aldrich had got home by this time, and it was 
pretty to see the girls clustering around him 
and his wife, like children around a kind father 
and mother upon whom they look with mingled 
love and reverence. Every face was radiant, yet 
there was no boisterous talking or laughter then 
or throughout the evening. I never saw such 
an influence as Mrs. Aldrich has over them — 
really magnetic. I don’t believe there is one of 
them who would willingly say or do a thing to 
grieve or displease her. 

Of course. Cicely, Bessie, and I did our part 
at entertaining them ; and soon the last one had 
arrived, and we were summoned to the room 
adjoining, where a substantial supper of cold 
chicken and tongue, creamed oysters, biscuits 
light as snowflakes, delicious fruit, cake, coffee, 
and tea awaited us. And the table, how pretty 
it looked, spread with the finest of linen and 


142 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

glittering with silver, dainty china, and glass! 
A handsome epergne heaped with fruit, inter- 
spersed with green leaves, stood in the centre, 
and there were two large vases of flowers. And 
every plate had its little bouquet lying beside 
it, and the card bearing the girl’s name who 
was to occupy the seat, with a verse written un- 
derneath. 

We sat down, and all heads were bowed for a 
moment while Mr. Aldrich reverently asked a 
blessing. As . he finished and I glanced at his 
wife’s face beaming with motherly love and 
kindness, and then at the dear girls, some of 
whose lives had been so dark and sad till she 
came into them like a sunbeam, the tears rushed 
to my eyes ; I could not help it. I felt that the \ 
Lord Jesus would have loved to sit at that table, 
and that the pains this dear woman takes to 
make it bright and fragrant and attractive for 
these young girls is a tribute precious to him 
who so graciously accepted the offering of Mary 
of Bethany. 

Soon there was a gentle murmur of talk at 
the table, while the girls admired their bouquets 
and showed them and the verses to their nearest 
neighbors. Kitty Corwin was placed at Mrs. 
Aldrich’s right hand. She appeared a little shy 
and strange for a while, as it was her first even- 
ing here ; but this soon wore away, for no one 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 143 

can resist the homelike atmosphere of this table. 
She is a naturally refined and ladylike girl, and 
her face is as sweet and modest as it is pretty. 

I sat at our hostess’ left hand with Louise 
Cole on my right. She is a pale, delicate-look- 
ing girl, with flaxen hair and mild, patient blue 
eyes. She is very timid; but I began to talk 
with her about her bouquet and mine, a little 
bunch of forget-me-nots, and succeeded soon in 
drawing her into a conversation. 

But we did not talk very long, for Mr. and 
Mrs. Aldrich are as entertaining as they are 
genial and good, and we all preferred to listen 
to them and to Miss Harmon, who was placed 
on our host’s right hand, and who is one of the 
brightest and most original women I ever saw. 

And Bessie, dear Bessie, she makes a sunny 
atmosphere about her wherever she is ; she is so 
quick to feel for any one, and sociable to the 
very core of her warm heart. She is “ Bessie ” 
to all the class, as indeed she is to almost every 
one ; I scarcely ever hear the miss ” put before 
her name. 

As for sweet Cicely, though equally loving 
and warm-hearted, she is more quiet and reti- 
ring than her sister, and has her mother’s gentle 
dignity of manner, without being as sociable as 
Mrs. Aldrich ; yet the girls all love her dearly, 
though I can see that they do not feel as free 


144 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

with her as with Bessie. One reason may be 
that she is older than most of them and is not a 
member of the class. 

Snpper over we went into the parlor. Soon 
the members of Mr. Aldrich’s class began to ar- 
rive. Their ages varied from sixteen to twenty 
or over, and they all seemed very gentlemanly 
and very devoted to their teacher and his wife. 
Well they may be, for a father and mother could 
not take more interest in them than Mr. and 
Mrs. Aldrich do. 

But I must not linger too long over these de- 
tails. At a quarter of eight every seat was filled 
and Miss Harmon began her reading. A wide 
box, prettily covered with cretonne, had been 
placed as a temporary platform in the front par- 
lor, so that every one could see as well as hear. 
Miss Harmon’s chair stood upon it, and a small 
table on which was a student-lamp. 

Her reading this evening was miscellane- 
ous — selections, some humorous, some pathetic, 
from various authors. She reads with a good 
deal of feeling and expression and is not at all 
pretentious. For instance, Bessie told me that 
she never attempts Shakespeare, at which she 
was very glad, as she could not bear to hear him 
rendered by any but the very finest readers. 

A little country girl like me is not much of a 
critic, I suppose. It was the first performance 



Winnie Loiimer's Visit. Page; I45' 




PiJ. ' i* 


V> IV 


' vv>'' 

<• • . f ' ^ ► r * ,-l *’»* ‘ 






>:•; 


, , ^4;%^ 

I ' .i y ?w . ' 

' . - » ; ■ i^.’ ' '■ •" • ^ 

, ) • fMvaf - • ,*■* 

' !»«■«.■ 4 iV'^V 




j, ,' ' Vii -Nrl 

iw t 

.- A 



it I 




, •> !>,' > •>"'^» . , . , /, ’ * 
d^^.J ' .*■ 

■ . mV ^ ■ V ■ ' ‘ TS 

, ■ V . X.' > 7 


f* ; 1 









v|ss 


V k '» 


ik*-»j.if ; 



. '«'f'V‘'*V ^ • ''j i i .«)*f*'.*7 

A /* .. .St I' \ if’ Vl^kC 

»;a..v « V.' iA..«.-V!jrJ _.' ' ■’^-- 

HHI S 

h 9 .'%'a 

•^' ‘M' ' ' 

• * >1 ,- I' ii 




•levy'll 





EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 145 

of the kind that I Had ever listened to, and I 
Vas delighted, like the rest of the class, and 
quite absorbed in the reading. 

After the reading cake and ice-cream were 
handed around, and we had a social half-hour 
together. At the entreaty of their guests Cicely 
opened the piano and gave them Tennyson’s 
lovely Ballad of the Brook ” with its accom- 
paniment, which imitates so exquisitely the flow 
and ripple of the stream. Then, What are the 
wild waves saying?” was eagerly called for, and 
she and Bessie sang the duet together. Cicely 
taking the part of Florence Dombey and her sis- 
ter that of little Paul. Cicely’s voice is a sopra- 
no, clear and sweet as a silver bell, Bessie’s a 
contralto; and they gave the song with such 
feeling that I did not wonder that it was a favor- 
ite with their guests. 

The duet ended, Mrs. Aldrich gave a signal 
and we all gathered around the piano and joined 
in singing Bishop Ken’s beautiful evening hymn, 

“ Glory to thee, my God, this night, 

For all the blessings of the light.” 

At the close of the hymn all bowed their heads 
for a moment while Mr. Aldrich, in a brief, 
hearty prayer, asked God’s blessing upon us. 
Then the guests began to take leave of their 
entertainers; and it was a pretty picture to see 

Winule Loilmer’s Visit. lO 


146 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

them clustering around Mrs. Aldrich, with her 
majestic figure and benign, motherly face, like 
bees around a white, sweet-hearted rose. All 
were profuse in their thanks; and Kitty Corwin, 
whose cheeks were as pink as her rosebuds by 
this time, while her eyes shone like stars, ex- 
claimed fervently, “ Oh, Mrs. Aldrich, I could n’t 
begin to tell you what a lovely time I have had.” 

“ I am glad you enjoyed it, dear Kitty,” said 
Mrs. Aldrich, kissing her affectionately. “ I 
hope you will come every time.” 

I was so absorbed in watching others that I 
quite forgot Winnie Lorimer till the last guest 
but myself had departed. 

‘‘Well,” I exclaimed then with a laugh, “I 
do n’t see why Linda does n’t make her appear- 
ance. Aunt Elizabeth said she would send her 
round for me.” 

“ I shall be very happy to escort you home, 
Miss Winnie,” began Mr, Aldrich; but at that 
moment a young man who had been standing in 
the hall advanced to the doorway, and with real 
delight I saw Hilary’s bright face. 

“ Why, Hilary, how good of you to come for 
me,” said I, for he had attended a company him- 
self that evening, and I knew he must have left 
it early in order to escort me home. “ Let me 
introduce you to these friends of mine.” 

The Aldriches gave my dear cousin a cordial 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. I47 

welcome, and I saw at once that his bright, open 
face and winning ways made a favorable impres- 
sion upon them. He seemed as pleased with 
them ; and while Mrs. Aldrich was gently taking 
him to task for not having come into the parlor 
at 6nce, I ran up stairs with Bessie. 

“I ’ve had a lovely evening, dear,” said I as 
I hastily put on my jacket and hat before the 
glass, ‘‘ and I enjoyed Miss Harmon’s reading 
very much.” 

“ Yes, she is very good ; but ah ! if you should 
hear Prof. Rawdon ! He is a. real genius, the 
finest reader I ever heard.” 

“ How I should like to hear him. Does he 
give public readings ?” 

“Yes, and you must certainly go with us 
some evening. Just think! he read for mo- 
ther’s class last spring, and insisted on giving 
his services. Was n’t it kind of him ! The 
girls and father’s young men were just carried 
away with him.” 

“Yes, it was kind, and it’s lovely of you 
dear folks, the pains you take to make others 
good and happy,” said I, throwing my arm 
around her as we ran down stairs together. 

We found Hilary chatting sociably with Mr. 
and Mrs. Aldrich and Cicely, and I sat down 
near him, well pleased that he was becoming 
acquainted with these dear friends of mine. I 


148 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

had no chance to introduce him that Sunday 
evening we went to church together, for at his 
request we sat in the gallery and came out im- 
mediately after the services. He has not offered 
to go with me since, and I think perhaps it was 
because Aunt Elizabeth was so provoked about 
it and showed her displeasure so plainly in her 
manner to me. The following Sunday the Aid- 
riches called for me in the evening, but did not 
meet any of my uncle’s family, as I hoped they 
would, and the Sunday after I was invited to tea 
at their house. 

But to return to the point from which I ’ve 
wandered. As I sat down by my cousin I 
asked, ^^At what time did you come in, Hil- 
ary?” 

I ’m not sure — about nine, I suppose.” 

“Why, Mr. Markham!” exclaimed Bessie, 
“did you wait a whole half-hour there in the 
hall?” 

“ The time did n’t seem long, I assure you. 
Miss Bessie. I enjoyed so much your and your 
sister’s beautiful singing.” 

“ I am glad if it gave you any pleasure,” 
said Bessie in her simple-hearted way. “We 
tried to coax Winnie to play for us, but she 
'begged off’ till next time. We expect to 
have quite a class concert then, as the Sher- 
wood girls play very prettily.” 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. I49 

“Yes, and several of father’s class will take 
part,” chimed in Cicely. “The Ellwood bro- 
thers have good voices and have been well 
trained, and Mr. Adams is a fine performer on 
the violin.” 

“We should be very happy to have your 
company that evening, Mr. Markham, if you 
feel inclined to join us,” said Mrs. Aldrich in 
her cordial way. 

“ I shall be delighted to come, I assure you, 
Mrs. Aldrich,” Hilary replied, “and am. much 
obliged to you for your kind invitation.” 

At this moment the clock struck ten and I 
hastily rose to my feet. “Hilary, we must be 
on our way. I had no idea it was so late ; the 
time has flown so. I ’ve had such a delightful 
evening, dear Mrs. Aldrich,” turning to her as 
I spoke. 

Mrs. Aldrich put her arm around me and 
gave me a motherly kiss. 

“I am glad you have enjoyed the evening, 
and I am much obliged to you for the assist- 
ance you have given us to-day, and for help- 
ing us entertain our guests this evening.” 

“ Why, that was no trouble, but a pleasure,” I 
rejoined, whereat all laughed, and Mrs. Aldrich, 
playfully pinching my cheek, turned again to 
Hilary. 

“I hope, Mr. Markham, you will call some 


150 WINNIE LO rimer’s VISIT. 

evening soon with your cousin,” she said, as 
they cordially shook hands again. 

“ I shall be delighted to do so,” Hilary re- 
joined. Mr. Aldrich, who had been eying 
him with gentle scrutiny for the last two or 
three moments, now exclaimed, as he took the 
boy’s hand in his turn, 

“ Somehow your face seems strangely famil- 
iar. Have I not seen you in the gallery of our 
church on the last two Sunday evenings?” 

Hilary colored a little as he darted a hasty 
glance at me, but promptly rejoined, 

“ I presume you did, sir, if my face seems 
familiar, for I was certainly there. But come, 
little coz,^’ as if anxious to change the subject, 
“ we must not keep these friends up any long- 
er. Miss Aldrich, Miss Bessie,” shaking hands 
with them both, “I trust I shall soon have the 
pleasure of hearing you sing again.” 

“And I hope we shall have the pleasure 
of hearing you^' Bessie responded promptly. 
“Winnie has told us how beautifully you play 
and sing.” 

“ Ah, my cousin is partial,” said Hilary with 
a smile. And then with another cordial good- 
evening we went out of their hospitable door. 

“ Did Aunt Elizabeth know you were coming 
for me ?” I asked as we descended the steps. 

“ Yes, I told her just before I went out.” 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 151 

“ Ah, that is the reason Linda did not make 
her appearance. I am very much obliged to 
you, Hilary, but am sorry you had to leave 
your friends so early.” 

“You needn’t pity me,” said Hilary with 
his usual frankness. “ I never care to stay late 
at the Woodruffs’, and am very glad to make 
the acquaintance of these friends of yours. 
They are very pleasant people.” 

“Aren’t they?” said I, delighted at these 
words of praise. “ You will call with me soon 
there, Hilary?” 

“Yes, indeed! Let us go some evening 
next week.” 

Then there was a long pause, and I knew he 
must be lost in thought, for he did not seem to 
hear a remark I made to him. Somehow I 
guessed what he was thinking about and was 
not surprised when he broke forth suddenly, 

“Winnie, were you hurt when you found 
out that I had been to your church and had 
not asked you to go with me?” 

“Not much, Hilary,” I answered, my voice 
a little unsteady, “for I guessed the reason 
why.” 

“I could not bear to bring any more dis- 
pleasure down upon your poor head, and I did 
want to hear Dr. Truman again. And I intend 
to hear him as often as I please, only for your 


152 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

sake it is best we should not go together. I 
shall tell my mother pretty soon that I attend 
the evening services there, for I do hate any 
underhand business. But, Winnie,” with a 
slight ring of defiance in his tone, “don’t im- 
agine for a moment that I have become or am 
likely to become a convert to Dr. Truman’s 
doctrines. I admire him, not for his ability 
alone, but because he’s such a manly man 
without a particle of sham about him. And 
then I do like to hear both sides of a subject.” 

I was afraid to say much for fear of doing 
harm, so replied simply, “ I am glad you like 
him, Hilary, and wish you could become ac- 
quainted with him and his family.” 

“ I should like to know them very much, 
only pray say nothing that may lead them to 
look upon me as a possible ‘ convert.’ But why 
have they not called upon you, Winnie?” 

“ Why, have n’t I told you that Ralph Tru- 
man has been sick with scarlet-fever, poor little 
fellow? He is doing nicely now, but they were 
a good deal worried about him at first. But in 
any case, Hilary, I should not feel aggrieved if 
they did not call for some time. A city pastor 
must have his hands so full, and his wife too.” 

“Yes, I suppose so. But here we are at 
home. I want to hear more about these 
monthly gatherings at Mr. Aldrich’s; you must 


EXTRACTS FROM WINNIE’S JOURNAL. 1 53 

give me an account of them to-morrow, Win- 
.nie.” 

“ I shall be glad to do so, Hilary. He and 
his wife are doing a splendid work among those 
young people.” 

I should imagine so,” Hilary replied, as he 
opened the door with his key. “ I like that sort 
of thing very much.” 

“ I thought you would, and you shall hear all 
about it to-morrow. And now good-night.” 

“ Good-night and pleasant dreams,” said Hil- 
ary in his kindest tone. “ I wont turn off the 
gas till you get up stairs.” 

I was glad to find myself in my own little 
room, for my heart was full to overflowing and 
I longed to pour it out in prayer for this dear 
cousin. Surely Jesus, who looked upon the 
young ruler and loved him, must love Hilary — 
so ingenuous, so tender-hearted, so sincere. 
May he come to the Saviour to be taught and, 
unlike that young man, be ready to forsake all 
and become His disciple ! 


154 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


CHAPTER VI. 

EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 

October 27, 18 — . We have had three 
weeks of school, and I don’t find much time 
for writing in this book. But it is Saturday 
afternoon, and I have a leisure hour and am 
resolved to spend part of the time over my 
journal. 

The schoolgirls (with the exception of two 
or three, who, I ’m sure, were jealous of her 
beauty) fell in love with my cousin Winnie at 
first sight. I don’t wonder, for she is such a 
pretty creature — a perfect fairy ! Miss Harmon 
was speaking to me the other day about her 
beauty and her sweet disposition, and added in 
that enthusiastic way of hers, “She ought to 
live in the heart of a rose.” 

Well, I ’m very fond of heir myself, and I 
like to sit and watch her as I would a beautiful 
picture, and yet she does provoke me so at 
times. She is so “set” in those religious no- 
tions of hers, and her religion is of such a 
prim, old-fashioned sort. For instance, she has 
the most innocent faith in the Bible, believes in 
all the miracles and takes this antiquated book 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 1 55 

for her guide in everything. It seems so sin- 
gular in this enlightened age and in such a 
bright, pretty girl. . 

Well, she is certainly consistent, which is 
more than I can say for many “Christians” 
whom I have met. And as Mary says, “ there 
is a real charm in the mingled childlike sim- 
plicity and quaint womanliness of her charac- 
ter.” She is very mature in many ways for one 
so young — I suppose because she was an only 
child and brought up in these old-fashioned 
ideas. 

Another thing I must acknowledge, and 
that is that her religion certainly seems to 
make her very happy. Though her temper is 
much more even than mine she is very sensi- 
tive, and a harsh or sarcastic remark will bring 
the tears to her eyes in a minute. I am sure 
that she would be inclined to brood over things 
and to make herself very miserable if it were 
not for those peculiar views of hers. But she 
does find comfort in them, delusions as they 
are, and the cloud lifts so soon from that 
innocent face of hers, leaving it as bright as a 
May morning. Sometimes it makes me al- 
most envious, though of course I wouldn’t be- 
lieve what she does for the world. 

But I really believe that Winnie loves to 
read the Bible, and to pray and go to church, in- 


156 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

stead of looking upon these things as necessary 
but tiresome duties as so many Christians seem 
to do. And when she is singing the hymns 
she ’s so fond of I do like to listen, even though 
I can’t help smiling at some of the queer ex- 
pressions in them ; for she sings them with 
all her heart and as if she enjoyed them so 
much. 

Well, I Ve acknowledged all this, and yet 
would I really be willing to change places with 
her? Not for worlds! You might as well ask 
a bird used to the freedom of the woods to 
change places with a canary shut up in a gilt 
cage. The poor little canary is quite satisfied 
to fly from one perch to another, and enjoys its 
water and seeds and the lumps of sugar they 
give it once in a while, because it has never 
known of better things. But — 

Later. 

I was interrupted there by a call from Amy 
Shaw, one of my schoolmates, and such a tire- 
some creature ! She is good, distressingly good, 
but so insipid that the girls can’t endure her, 
and when they speak her name they pause 
after the Amy and say “ Pshaw !’ in such a disn 
gusted tone. They’ve got in the way of wri- 
ting her name in that style too. It does seem 
rather mean, but then she is so tiresome. 

I suppose the reason Winnie has taken her 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL, 1 57 

up is because nobody else cares for the girl. 
She always has a kind word to say for Amy 
when the other girls are making fun of her, 
takes long walks with her, and is always ready 
to help her over the hard places in the lessons. 
Nobody else has patience to explain them to 
her, she ’s so stupid. I suppose it ’s very amia- 
ble of Winnie, but it ’s very foolish too. Amy, 
of course, adores her, and though fortunately 
she ’s too shy to be very obtrusive, it ’s a nui- 
sance to have her coming here at all. 

As for me, I decidedly object to being bored, 
and though Winnie was out and Amy had asked 
for us both, I was about to send word that I was 
engaged, as I was — upon my journal. But mo- 
ther, who has over-strained ideas of politeness, I 
think, came in just then and insisted upon my 
going down. 

Of course I had to mind her, and descended 
to the parlor in anything but an amiable frame 
of mind. And there I had to sit full twenty 
minutes trying to converse” with that exas- 
perating girl ! She ’s as homely as she ’s unin- 
teresting ; a ^‘washed-out” looking creature, with 
dull blue eyes and dull brown hair and such an 
expressionless face! I don’t think she’s par- 
ticularly sensitive, but she did look afraid of 
me, perhaps because my manner was somewhat 
impatient. I could n’t help it. It ’s so tiresome 


158 WINNIE LO rimer’s VISIT. 

to try to make conversation ” with a girl who 
answers you only in monosyllables, and has 
that scared, stupefied look upon her face all 
the time. It was a great relief to me when 
Winnie came in looking as fresh and pretty as 
an apple-blossom, and Amy’s dull face actually 
brightened up a little at the sight of her. But 
she still seemed very shy and awkward, and 
feeling that perhaps my presence was a re- 
straint upon the girl, I excused myself after a 
moment, thankful to escape to my own room. 
When Winnie comes up I am going to give 
her a good scolding for encouraging such stupid 
creatures to call at our house. 

November 2. I ’m so angry at Winnie that 
I can scarcely speak to her. I don’t like her 
now, and wish she had never come into the 
house. And mother and Harriet feel the same 
way, I ’m sure, though they do n’t storm as I do. 

Well, let me see if I can compose myself a 
little, so as to write down what has happened. 
Last evening Hilary came into the parlor, where 
we were all sitting, with the exception of father 
and Mary, his hat in his hand and all ready to 
go out. 

‘‘Where are you going to-night, my son?” 
asked mother gravely, for we had begun to 
think it a little queer that something seemed to 
take him out nearly every Sunday evening. 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 1 59 

I am going to hear Dr. Truman, mother,’* 
replied Hilary promptly, though his manner was 
a little embarrassed. 

The color came into mother’s cheeks and her 
eyes flashed, but she controlled herself and said 
in a calm voice, 

'‘You have been there several times during 
the last few weeks, have you not ?” 

“Yes-, mother, I have,” Hilary replied. “I 
came in just now intending to speak to you 
about it. I like Dr. Truman — he is a good man 
and an able preacher — and I am very much in- 
terested just now in a series of sermons he is 
giving on Religion and Science. You know,” he 
added hastily, “ you said yourself it was a proof 
of a weak mind to be unwilling to look on both 
sides of a question.” 

“Yes, my boy, I remember,” said mother, 
still preserving her composure, “but I know 
your impressioflable, impulsive nature, and fear 
that under the influence of this man you may 
forget to listen to the calm voice of reason. Con- 
rad, now, has a logical head, and is so self-con- 
trolled that he would never allow his feelings to 
get the better of his judgment.” 

Hilary seemed a good deal piqued by this 
remark, and answered in a hurt tone, 

“ I do n’t think you understand me, mother, 
when you make me out so weak as that. As for 


l6o WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Dr. Truman, he has a logical head as well as 
a tender heart, and he appeals to the reason, 
to the conscience — ” 

Here my unlucky tongue got the better of 
me, and I broke in, unable to keep still a minute 
longer. 

Ah yes, it is easy to see that you consider 
Dr. Truman absolute perfection, a man whom 
you have heard only a few times, while mother’s 
influence, mother’s teaching, which you have 
had all these years, counts for nothing now ! If 
that isn’t weak I don’t know what is, Hilary 
Markham ! But I know who is at the bottom of 
it, that deceitful, sanctimonious little Winnie! 
She and the Aldriches have been taking you 
to church on the sly, and if I do n’t let her know 
what I think of such mean, underhand busi- 
ness — ” 

“Corinne!” began mother in her severest 
tone, but Hilary could not wait -for her reproof. 
Turning upon me, he said in a voice that trem- 
bled with indignation, 

‘'You may say what you please to me, Co- 
rinne, though you must feel yourself how unjust 
you are when you speak of my dear mother’s 
influence and teaching counting for nothing 
with me ; but I will have no imputations cast 
upon Winnie and her friends. With the excep- 
tion of that Sunday evening six weeks ago, I 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. l6l 

have been to church alone, and have always 
come out immediately after the service, not 
stopping to exchange a word with any one. 
Winnie found out accidentally one evening that 
I had been there, and since then she has repeat- 
edly urged me to speak with you about it, mo- 
ther, as indeed I intended to do before long. 
For Cousin Winnie detests, as much as I myself, 
any ^ underhand business.’ ” 

“ I am very much displeased with Corinne 
for the way she has spoken to you, and think 
she owes you an apology,” said mother, glancing 
at me as I sat there, angry, ashamed, sulky, all 
at once. ‘‘ But now, my son, it is growing late, 
and if you want to hear Dr. Truman, you would 
better start for church directly. Come to my 
room when you get back, and let us talk over his 
sermon together.” 

Hilary looked at her a moment, then stooped 
and kissed her. “You are the best mother in 
the world,” he said in a voice that trembled with 
something different from anger now, “ the kind- 
est and most considerate.” 

Then he hurried out, and had scarcely closed 
the door behind him when mother, Harriet, and 
Conrad all joined in a combined attack upon 
poor me, who was feeling guilty enough already. 
The unkindness, and foolishness of my conduct 
was held up before me in the most vivid colors. 


Winnie Lorlmei’n Visit, 


II 


i 62 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

and I was told that if I desired to drive my dear 
brother into the arms of Dr. Truman and the 
church, I could not take a more effectual way 
to do it. This last cut was too much for me, 
and rushing from the parlor I took refuge in my 
own room, where I cried as if my heart would 
break. But though sorry for my conduct to Hil- 
ary, I was not softened towards Winnie at all. 
She was away, her precious Aldriches having 
invited her to take tea there and go to church 
with them afterwards, and perhaps it was as well 
for her, for I fairly longed to speak the stinging 
words that .should bring the tears to her eyes 
and I hoped make her blush. Little sly, soft- 
voiced, sanctimonious thing, as obstinate and 
conceited as she is pious ! I have no doubt that 
she is exulting in the thought that Hilary and 
perhaps the rest of us will become converts to 
her narrow creed. But you ’ll never convert me. 
Miss Winnie, you nor your Dr. Truman either. 

But oh, Hilary, my dear brother Hilary ! 
When I think of him I ’m almost heart-broken, 
for I can’t help feeling that that man has got a 
stronger hold upon him than the rest of the 
family imagine. And if he should become a 
convert to his doctrines, what a dreary gulf it 
would place between the poor boy and those 
who love him best. 

y* We ’ve always been such companions, Hilary 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 163 

and I, in spite of the little tiffs we have once in 
a while. Our love of music is only one of the 
many tastes we have in common, but there ’s 
something deeper than all this that has drawn 
us together. He’s been my ideal, this bright, 
handsome brother, of all that is noble and chiv- 
alrous and manly, and he in his turn has seemed 
very proud and very fond of me. He ’s very de- 
voted to Harriet and Mary, but somehow there 
Jias seemed a peculiar bond of sympathy be- 
tween us two ; and now if it should be broken, 
if he should take to prayer-meetings and to 
psalm-singing, and go around calling himself a 
“miserable sinner,” how could I bear the change 
in him ! And he would find me as uncongenial 
of course. O Winnie ! Winnie ! It was an un- 
fortunate day for us all when you came here to 
sow the seeds of discord in our happy home ! 

November 4. I scarcely spoke to Winnie all 
day yesterday, and last night she came to my 
room and asked me in a trembling voice what 
was the matter and if she had offended me in 
any way. 

I would hardly answer her at first, but she 
urged me so to tell her that at last it came out 
in a great, angry rush, all the scorn and bitter- 
ness of which my heart was full. Her paleness, 
her silence, only provoked me the more, for I 
wanted to have a battle with her, and at last 


164 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

I said something, I am ashamed to repeat it, that 
stung her to the quick. She drew herself up, 
and her blue eyes fairly flashed fire through 
the tears that filled them. I declare, I almost 
quailed before her, this little gentle cousin over 
whom I ’ve tyrannized so often, for I realized in 
a moment what a cruel, insulting thing I had 
said to her. 

But Winnie has wonderful self-command for 
one so young, and in a minute more she turned 
and went quickly out of the room, as if she 
couldn’t trust herself to speak a word. And 
then I put my head down upon the table and 
cried as I had never cried before. Shame, an- 
ger, grief on account of Hilary — my heart 
seemed full of all three, and to be torn to pieces 
between them, and I felt that I was the most 
wretched girl that ever lived ! 

November 5. Dr. and Mrs. Truman called 
last evening. I was studying up in my room, 
and recollected that I had left one of my books 
in the parlor. I went down for it, and there 
they sat — a fine-looking couple, I must admit — 
conversing in the most agreeable manner with 
father and mother and Winnie, whose face ex- 
pressed her pleasure at this charming state of 
affairs. 

Of course I didn’t know who they were at 
first, and was perfectly astounded when mother 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 1 65 

called me to her side and introduced me. I 
drew myself up and was as stiff as you please, 
though I knew that I should be well scolded as 
soon as these people left. And I fancied that I 
saw a twinkle of amusement in Dr. Truman’s 
eye, which did not improve my temper. But 
though wishing both him and his wife in Jeri- 
cho, I sat down, anxious to see the meeting be- 
tween them and Hilary, who I was sure would 
soon make his appearance. And so he did, in a 
minute or two, and was introduced to the Tru- 
mans, as I had been. But there was nothing 
stiff or haughty in his manner, not a bit of it ! 
He was modest and unassuming, to be sure, as 
he always is, but he seemed so pleased to see 
them that I could have shaken him ! And I am 
certain, too, that the Trumans must have heard 
something about Hilary from either Winnie or 
the Aldriches, for there was a peculiar and really 
affectionate interest in their manner when they 
looked at or spoke to the boy. It just provoked 
me, and I fairly exulted when two friends called 
who hold the same views as our own, and who 
are very intelligent besides. Dr. Friedmann and 
young Mr. Everingham. For though Dr. Tru- 
man is a very able man — you can’t be ten min- 
utes in his company without finding that out — he 
is on the wrong side, and I felt sure that they 
could worst him in an argument on this subject. 


l66 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Mother must have had the same thought in 
her mind, I am certain, though she was too po- 
lite to begin the argument herself. For when 
the Trumans rose to go, a few minutes later, 
she urged them to stay ; and soon — though I 
scarcely know how it came about — Dr. Fried- 
mann, Mr. Everingham, and Dr. Truman got 
into a discussion of a scientific work that has 
been published lately. It is by a celebrated ra- 
tionalistic author, and has made quite a stir in 
the world. 

Mrs. Truman had quietly taken a seat beside 
me, when persuaded by my mother to stay, and 
tried to draw me into conversation about a fine 
collection of paintings now on exhibition in 
New York. She is a very cultivated woman, 
with a lovely, refined, face, and her manners are 
certainly charming. However, I was resolved 
not to be fascinated by her, yet can’t help feel- 
ing ashamed when I recollect what short, almost 
sulky answers I made to her remarks. She has 
a good deal of quiet dignity about her, and 
turned away from me to Winnie pretty soon. 
She was glad enough to talk with her. 

They didn’t keep up a conversation very 
long, however, for we all became too interested 
in the argument between Dr. Truman and our 
friends to think of anything else. Mother was 
drawn into it by degrees, but father never said a 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 1 67 

word, though he listened with all his ears and 
such an anxious look on his face. 

Dr. Friedmann and Mr. Everingham both 
have a good deal of wit, and at first they tried to 
laugh down Dr. Truman’s arguments in a way 
that even I thought was hardly polite. But he 
was so dignified and so much in earnest that 
they soon stopped that sort of thing and began 
to treat him with great respect. 

I declare I believe I should like the man if it 
were not for his disagreeable views and his hold 
on my dear brother. As he sat up there, so 
manly, so earnest, one against three, I could n’t 
help admiring him, even while I felt provoked 
that the others didn’t seem to succeed in put- 
ting him down. But just then my eye fell upon 
Hilary. There he sat, his cheeks crimson, his 
great brown eyes wide open and fastened upon 
Dr. Truman as if he were drinking in every 
word he said. It gave me such a shock ! And 
oh, how I hated that minister, and Winnie too, 
at that moment, for if it hadn’t been for her 
Hilary might never have gone to hear him. 

Mother had almost forgotten her boy in the 
excitement of the argument, I think, but sud- 
denly she caught sight of my face, and then her 
eye went to Hilary in a twinkling. She grew 
very pale, and after watching him closely for a 
moment, turned and said with a smile, 


l68 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Well, do n’t you think we have had enough 
of discussion? As usual, neither side seems to 
have convinced the other. Wouldn’t it be an 
agreeable diversion to talk of the ‘Watts Col- 
lection’? Have you seen those pictures, Dr. 
Friedmann ?” 

“Yes, for a wonder I managed to snatch a 
half-hour for that purpose,” Dr. Friedmann re- 
plied, and they discussed the pictures for a few 
moments. Then the Trumans took their leave, 
much to my relief. 

“That’s a fine man, now,” said Dr. Fried- 
mann as the door closed behind them, “ and his 
wife is a charming woman. How strange that 
such people should be willing to believe in those 
old-wives’ fables ! Mrs. Markham,” turning upon 
mother in his odd way, “ I owe you a grudge for 
breaking off our discussion so abruptly. We 
were getting the better of the doctor very fast, 
I think, when you interrupted us with your 
‘ Watts Collection.’ Was it out of consideration 
for him, eh ?” 

“Come now, doctor, aren’t you just a little 
boastful ?” asked father, smiling. “ To my mind 
Dr. Truman seemed to be getting the better of 
you, and he one against three into the bargain.” 

Now how strange of father to say that, and 
before Hilary too ! Can it be possible that he — 
no, I wont even think of such a dreadful thing. 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 169 

He must only have meant to tease his old friend 
a little. And he succeeded, for Dr. Friedmann 
replied in a somewhat nettled tone, 

“What are you talking about, my dear fel- 
low? Facts are stubborn things, and you can’t 
get the better of them, I should hope. But,” 
pulling out his watch, “it’s time I was off. 
There ’s a young man round the corner whom I 
must call upon for the sixth time to-day. Poor 
fellow! he wont need my services much longer.” 

“Who is he, doctor, and what’s the matter 
with him?” asked mother sympathetically. 

“ Oh, you do n’t know the family ; they ’ve 
lately moved in. Harris is the name. This 
young man has pneumonia, and I do n’t think 
there ’s the ghost of a chance for him. Found a 
minister there this afternoon. Miss Winnie,” he 
went on, wheeling suddenly round upon my 
cousin; “that will please you, I know. Well, 
well, Harris seemed to have got considerable 
comfort out of him, poor young fellow ; and if 
the good man made it any easier for him to die 
and leave his friends and this pleasant world of 
ours, why, all right.” 

Bidding us a hasty good-evening he hurried 
out, accompanied by Mr. Everingham. 

The moment they left Hilary excused him- 
self, saying that he must finish preparing his 
lessons for the next day. Father went to his 


170 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

study, while mother took up a book and tried to 
read; but her face looked worn and anxious, 
and I saw plainly enough that she could not fix 
her mind upon it at all. 

Winnie lingered around a few moments and 
then went up to her own room. She could n’t 
have gone to bed in a very happy frame of mind, 
I think, for when she bade us good-night mother 
answered her as coldly as I did and wouldn’t 
look at her at all. Dare say she cried herself to 
sleep. Well, serves her right if she did, the 
little mischief-making thing ! 

As soon as she was out of hearing mother 
laid down her book and said without any pre- 
face, “ Corinne, I want you to go with Hilary to 
church next Sunday evening; not to Dr. Tru- 
man’s,” she added, as I fairly bounced out of 
my chair. “Sit down and be quiet, and hear 
what I have to say.” 

I obeyed, inwardly rebellious, yet curious to 
know what she meant. 

“ Twish you,” she went on, “ to ask Hilary to 
take you to hear Mr. Charlton next Sunday even- 
ing. He is a talented man and an interesting 
speaker, and what is still more to the purpose, 
he holds very advanced views. I have heard 
him two or three times myself, and found much 
to enjoy and very little to object to in his ser- 
mons.” 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 171 

“Oh dear!” said I, pouting, “any kind of 
sermons would bore me, I ’m sure. I Ve a most 
painful remembrance of the time father took me 
to church six years ago. Why, I felt as if I 
should fly. Poor father did n’t know what to do 
with me, and said that I fidgeted about as if I 
had been three instead of eleven.” 

“ But these are really evening lectures Mr. 
Charlton is giving,” persisted mother, “ and you 
are fond of lectures, are you not?” 

“No, I detest them unless they are some- 
thing out of the common way,” said I petu- 
lantly. 

“ But you love your brother, I hope,” replied 
mother, growing severe all of a sudden, “and 
would do anything to keep him from becoming 
a convert to Dr. Truman’s doctrines? If not, 
you can’t be as fond of him as I thought you 
were.” 

“ I do love him dearly,” said I passionately, 
the tears starting to my eyes. “ How can you 
doubt it, mother?” 

“ Then are n’t you willing to make this little 
sacrifice for his sake ? F rom what I saw to-night 
I am convinced that there is great danger of the 
poor boy’s coming wholly under Dr. Truman’s 
influence. Your father and I have an engage- 
ment for next Sunday evening, and besides, you 
have always been such a companion and pet of 


172 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Hilary’s that I think it best you should ask him 
to go.” 

Well, I ’ll do it,” said I resignedly ; “ but 
what if he should refuse ?” 

“ It would not be like him to refuse you, he 
has always been so kind and polite to his sisters. 
Mr. Charlton has been giving a series of Sunday 
evening lectures on the celebrated writers of 
this age, and Amy Porter told me that his next 
lecture would be upon Dickens. You and Hilary 
are both so fond of his works that I think you 
would enjoy it very much.” 

“ Well, I ’ll ask him to go with me,” said I. 

But, mother, what if he should become as in- 
terested in Mr. Charlton as he has been in Dr. 
Truman? You have always been so opposed to 
churches, and would you be willing that he 
should become a member there ?” 

“Yes, rather than that he should fall into the 
hands of those other people,” mother replied. 
“ As I told you before, Mr. Charlton is a man of 
very advanced views. The morning I was there 
he read extracts from the Koran. He uses that 
and the Bible by turns in his pulpit. And — ” 
This hit my “ funny bone,” I must confess, 
and I could n’t help breaking in in what I sup- 
pose was rather a saucy tone, “ But what does 
he call himself, mother, a Mohammedan or a 
Christian, or a mixture of both ?” 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 1 73 

“ Do n’t interrupt me again, Corinne,” said 
mother severely ; “ and do n’t be flippant either, 
for you know how I dislike that. Mr. Charlton 
calls himself a Christian, I suppose, but he is too 
progressive a man to hold the old-fashioned reli- 
gious ideas. He believes, as I do, that Jesus was 
one of the purest and noblest of men, though 
not infallible. And he thinks that we ought to 
study his precepts as we do those of other great 
teachers, and practise them too, unless, as is 
often the case, they conflict with our reason.” 

Mother is apt to forget the difference in our 
ages when she talks with me. It ’s flattering, of 
course, but I began to feel a little tired and 
hoped Mr. Charlton would confine himself to 
Dickens and let the Bible alone when I went to 
hear him. 

“ What induced him to bring the Koran into 
his pulpit ?” asked I, by way of diversion. 

“Why, he thinks there are as valuable les- 
sons to be drawn from that as from the Old and 
New Testaments,” mother replied. “And be- 
sides that, I suppose he wants to educate his 
people in his own liberal ideas and keep them 
from any superstitious reverence for the Bible.” 

“ Well, I think I ’ll go and put myself in my 
' little bed,’ ” said I, suppressing a yawn with 
difficulty. “ Do you want me to go every Sunday 
evening with Hilary, mother?” 


174 WINNIE lorimer’s visit. 

“ I want you to go with him till he is thor- 
oughly weaned from his infatuation about Dr. 
Truman. And, daughter,” stretching out her 
hand to me, ‘‘ I assure you I appreciate the sac- 
rifice you are making, for I know how tiresome 
the very idea of church is to you. But you ’ll 
feel repaid if you are the means of saving your 
dear brother from Dr. Truman.” 

There were actually tears in mother’s eyes, 
and she drew me down and kissed me, an unu- 
sual thing for her to do. I was a good deal 
touched, and felt very self-sacrificing too, as I 
took myself off to bed. And as I passed Win- 
nie’s door I thought with triumph how I was 
going . to carry my dear Hilary off from Dr. 
Truman and his church right under her very 
nose. 

November 7. Harriet has been giving me 
some poems of Mr. Charlton’s to read. She cut 
them from different papers and magazines as 
they came out, and has now quite a collection of 
them. They are really charming, full of tender 
feeling and the sweetest fancies. I have become 
really interested in the man and quite look for- 
ward to hearing him. I do n’t believe Dr. Tru- 
man could write a poem to save his life. 

November 10. This evening I repeated one 
of Mr. Charlton’s poems to mother and Hilary. 
It ’s one of the loveliest, most pathetic things I 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 1 75 

ever read, and mother and Hilary seemed as 
struck by it as I was. 

“ I want to hear that man,” said I, and I 
could say it with truth now. “ He ’s to lecture 
on Dickens next Sunday evening, Hilary ; do n’t 
you want to take your ‘little sister’ to hear 
him ?” 

Hilary looked embarrassed and hesitated a 
moment. He ’s one of the most guileless boys, 
and I do n’t think he had the least suspicion that 
we were trying to get him away from Dr. Tru- 
man. Conrad, now, would have seen through 
us in a minute. 

“ Well, you see, Corinne,” said Hilary gently, 
“ Dr. Truman preaches the last of his sermons 
on Religion and Science next Sunday evening, 
and I feel very anxious to hear it. But — ” 

“ Oh, bother Dr. Truman !” I flashed out ; “ I 
should think you had heard enough of his non- 
sense. It’s a new thing for you to be so dis- 
obliging to me, Hilary.” 

“ Do hear me out, little sister !” said Hilary, 
as kindly as before, for he saw how vexed and 
disappointed I was.' “You don’t let me finish 
my sentence. I was about to propose that you 
should go with me to hear Dr. Truman next 
Sunday evening, and let me take you to Mr. 
Charlton’s lecture the week after. Come, now, 
let us make a compromise.” 


176 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

‘‘/go to hear Dr. Truman, indeed!” began I, 
but mother quickly interposed, 

“ You are anxious to have Hilary ‘obliging ’ 
to you, Corinne — now suppose you try and 
‘ oblige ’ him a little. Do as he asks you, child, 
and then the week after you can go and enjoy 
Mr. Charlton’s lecture together.” 

I looked at her in astonishment a minute ; 
then a thought struck me that made me feel at 
least ten inches taller. 

“ Ah I” thought I, “ she ’s not afraid to have 
me go and hear Dr. Truman ! She knows I have 
a ‘ logical ’ head and too much common sense to 
be injured by him.” 

But though a good deal uplifted by this 
thought, I still felt injured that I should be 
forced into going to hear a man I disliked so 
much. 

“ Well, I ’ll go with you this once,” said I un- 
graciously to Hilary, “ but please never ask me 
again. For I can’t endure Dr. Truman, and I 
know that his sermon will just bore me to 
death.” 

Hilary only laughed, kissed me, and opening 
the piano asked me to play a duet with him. 
Oh, dear! that boy can do almost anything he 
pleases with me, and he knows it. 

November i i. I have a bad sore throat and 
can’t possibly go with Hilary to-morrow. But 


EXTRACTS FROM CORINNE’S JOURNAL. 1 77 

I Ve promised to go with him the second Sun- 
day after. In the meantime we expect to hear 
Mr. Charlton, and perhaps the boy will be so 
carried away wdth him that he wont care for 
Dr. Truman any more. I hope so, with all my 
heart ! 


Winnie Lorlmer's Visit. 


12 


178 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


CHAPTER VII. 

WINNIE’S CALLER. 

Two evenings after Corinne was sitting 
alone in the parlor, intent upon one of Miss 
Alcott’s books. Winnie and Hilary were at the 
Aldriches’, while the rest of the family had gone 
to a company at the Friedmanns’. 

They had been obliged to leave Corinne at 
home on account of her cold. Winnie had tim- 
idly offered to stay at home with her, but Co- 
rinne, already bitterly jealous that her favorite 
brother and her cousin should have been invited 
out together, haughtily declined. 

Left alone, she sulked for a few moments 
and shed a few tears. But the cheeriest of coal- 
fires was crackling in the grate, the lamp burned 
brightly, and she had the new book Hilary had 
brought home for her, together with a great 
bunch of Jacqueminot roses which stood upon 
the table. As Corinne’s eye fell upon the flow- 
ers, and she thought of her brother’s kindness, 
she felt ashamed of her petulance to him, and 
resolved to apologize as soon as they were alone 
together. It was easier to ask pardon of Hilary 
than of anybody else — she was so fond of him 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


179 


and he was so kind and indulgent to her. One 
word of severity from him would cut her to the 
heart, and prove more effectual than an hour’s 
lecture from another member of the family. 

She felt not the slightest compunction, how- 
ever, for her conduct to poor Winnie. 

It ’ll be your turn to feel bad, miss,” she 
reflected, “ when I carry my dear brother off to 
Mr. Charlton’s church next Sunday evening. 
I ’m so glad mother asked Amy Porter to intro- 
duce him to us. If he ’s as genial as they say, 
I hope he ’ll win Hilary’s heart at once.” 

Her face brightened up at the thought, and 
drawing the big rocking-chair in which she was 
seated nearer to the cosey fire, she opened her 
book and soon became absorbed in the story. 
She was a pretty picture as she sat there, in her 
blue cashmere dress, made in one of the pic- 
turesque fashions of the day, while the daintiest 
of white embroidered handkerchiefs protected' 
her throat, which was still a little sore. Her 
red-brown, rippling hair was dressed in a knot 
on the top of her head and secured by a frosted 
silver pin made in the shape of an arrow. Co- 
rinne never had occasion to “ frizz ” her hair in 
front, for it ran into the prettiest rings and ten- 
drils as naturally as a vine. She had a saucy 
nose, “ tip-tilted like the petal of a flower,” and 
a pretty arched mouth that would have been 


l80 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

very sweet had it not looked as if it might some- 
times say such sarcastic things. 

She had read for over half an hour when a 
sudden ring at the door made her look up with 
an expression of intense vexation. 

“ There comes some stupid caller, I suppose, 
to spoil my evening. Anybody must be stupid 
who would chpose such a rainy night as this for 
a visit.” 

Her face cleared up, however, as she heard a 
manly voice in the hall inquiring for “ Miss Lori- 
mer.” 

“Some youthful brother from the church, I 
imagine. Thank goodness I sha’ n’t have to en- 
tertain him.” But the next instant her brow 
darkened with wrath as she heard Sappho, the 
colored cook, answer blandly, 

“ She ’s in de parlor, sar.” 

“ Stupid thing ! Where ’s Linda that she 
‘did n’t go to the door.^ Well, I ’ll soon get rid 
of him,” she thought, as she rose from her chair, 
resolved to give the stranger a frosty reception. 
But the minute her eye fell upon the tall, fine- 
looking young man advancing towards her her 
manner changed ; she colored violently and felt 
a childish impulse to rush from the room. 

“ The girl made a mistake, sir,” she faltered 
out, for her natural audacity and self-possession 
seemed to have forsaken her for a moment. 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


8l 


“ Winnie is out, I am sorry to say.” Then after 
an instant’s pause, “ Is n’t this Mr. Chesnut- 
wood?” 

“ This is Mr. Chesnutwood,” replied the 
stranger, smiling. “ And you, I presume, are 
Miss Corinne Markham ?” 

“ Yes, I am Corinne,” said the girl, while the 
thought flashed through her mind, “ Winnie 
must have been giving a description of me to 
his sister.” 

‘‘Wont you sit down, Mr. Chesnutwood?” she 
asked, recovering her self-possession a little. 
“ Winnie and my brother expect to come home 
early, and she would be very much disappointed 
not to see you.” 

“ Thank you,” said Clive, accepting the chair 
she offered him. “ I am very anxious to see her, 
as I leave for Briarville to-morrow morning,” he 
added, smiling. “ I expect to return in a few 
days, bringing my sister with me. I have ob- 
tained a position in New York, and Sophie and I 
expect to set up housekeeping together in this 
city.” 

“ Indeed ! My cousin will be very glad to 
hear that,” said Corinne, her manner still a little 
constrained. She could not help feeling guilty 
and embarrassed in Clive’s presence as she 
thought of her treatment of Winnie and fancied 
that his keen eyes were reading her through. 


l82 WINNIE LORIMER'S VISIT. 

“ Perhaps she has heard of it already,” she 
added hastily. 

No, we thought it best not to mention the 
matter till it was all settled,” answered Clive. 
“ It will be a great comfort to my sister and me 
to be near Winnie again, I assure you. Miss 
]\Iarkham. You cannot have lived three months 
in the same house with her without finding out 
how lovely she is.” 

Corinne colored and hesitated a moment. 
Then her audacious frankness triumphed over 
her embarrassment, and she answered with des- 
perate truthfulness, 

I never was good at deceiving any one, Mr. 
Chesnutwood, and I may as well speak out. 
Winnie and I are not such good friends as we 
were a while ago.” 

Indeed ! I am very sorry to hear that,” said 
Clive gravely, and with a shade of severity in 
his manner. “ Winnie is so gentle, so thorough- 
ly sweet-tempered, that I cannot conceive of any- 
body cherishing hard feelings against her.” 

“ She is very gentle, very amiable,” said Co- 
rinne, her conscience pricking her sharply even 
while she felt some resentment at Clive, “ and I 
have a very quick temper, I know. But Winnie 
and I have such different opinions about al- 
most everything, we can’t help rubbing against 
each other! However,” she added hastily, ''I 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 183 

dare say we shall be good friends again before 
long.” 

“ I hope so,” answered Clive, still looking 
grave. “We hear often from Winnie, and she 
seems very fond of you and the rest of the fam- 

ily.” 

“Does she?” asked Corinne impulsively. 
Somehow the thought that Winnie still loved 
and spoke kindly of her touched the girl and 
made the tears start to her eyes. But she 
winked them back resolutely and trusted Clive 
had not perceived them. 

“ Have you taken a flat, Mr. Chesnutwood ?” 
she asked, anxious to change the subject. 

“Yes, and we hope to be very cosey and com- 
fortable in our new home,” said Clive, smiling. 
“ I hope you will let Winnie bring you round to 
see us. Miss Corinne, when we are settled.” 

“ Thank you, I should like to very much,” re- 
plied the girl. Then after a moment’s pause, 
“ Winnie’s photograph of you is an excellent 
likeness, Mr. Chesnutwood; I knew you at once 
from that.” 

“ I was wondering how you came to recognize 
me,” said the young man, smiling. Then his 
eye wandered to the piano. “ Winnie has told 
us that you play and sing very beautifully. Miss 
Corinne. May I have the pleasure of hearing 
you?” 


1 84 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

“I do n’t dare to sing, as my throat is still a 
little sore, but I shall be very happy to play for 
you,” replied the girl. “I stayed at home on 
account of my cold,” she added, as she went to- 
wards the piano ; “ the rest of the family are out. 
Do you like classical music, Mr. Chesnutwood ?” 

‘‘ Yes, I. prefer it to any other,” said the 
young man, and Corinne began at once a sonata 
of Beethoven’s. She did indeed play beautifully, 
and when the piece was ended Clive begged for 
another. Corinne, who loved to play and thor- 
oughly enjoyed an appreciative listener, was 
delighted to go on, and nearly an hour passed in 
this way. But the sound of Hilary’s and Win- 
nie’s voices in the hall aroused them both. Co- 
rinne stopped playing and looked round with a 
smile. Clive made her a playful gesture to be 
silent, and stepped into an adjoining room, stand- 
ing where he could not easily be seen from the 
parlor. 

“ Well, little sister, have we interrupted your 
music?” said Hilary’s cheery voice, as he en- 
tered. '' Go right on, my dear ! Come in, Win- 
nie, and toast your feet by the fire before you go 
up stairs. They must be wet through.” 

“ Yes, do, child, or you ’ll take a dreadful 
cold,” said Corinne, in a kinder tone than she 
had used to Winnie for some time. But in 
truth, Clive’s words had softened her heart a 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


185 

good deal towards the young girl. Winnie’s 
face brightened at the change, and she ventured 
to ask timidly, 

“You haven’t been lonely, have you, Co- 
rinne ?’’ 

“ Oh, no, not at all,’’ said Corinne, with a ro- 
guish twinkle in her eyes. “ Sit right down 
here,’’ she added, placing her in a deep arm- 
chair, with her back to the dining-room, “ and 
put your feet on the fender. O Winnie, did you 
go out without your rubbers ?” 

“No, I just left them and my gossamer in 
the hat-rack.’’ 

“ Well, I ’m going to run up now for your 
slippers.” 

“No, no,” protested Winnie, trying to rise. 
But Corinne held her down with a determined 
hand. 

“ Do just as you are bid !” she said in a tone 
of kindly authority. “ I am going up anyway, 
but will bring them pretty soon. Hilary, do n’t 
you want to take off your boots?” 

“ Well, perhaps I would better do so,” Hilary 
replied, glancing down at his feet. “ We ’ll be 
down again in a minute, Winnie.” 

“You needn’t hurry yourself, young man,” 
whispered Corinne, turning her merry face upon 
him, when they were once in the hall. “ Winnie 
wont.be lonely.” 


1 86 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

‘‘What do you mean?” 

“ Come up stairs with me, and I ’ll tell you.” 

Hilary threw his arm around her, and they 
flew lightly up the stairs together. 

“ Now tell me what the mystery is,” said Hil- 
ary, drawing her into his mother’s room. 

“The mystery is Mr. Clive Chesnutwood,” 
said Corinne, laughing. “ I ’ve had the pleas- 
ure of entertaining him for the last hour or so, 
and found him a very agreeable young gentle- 
man. When we came up he was waiting in the 
dining-room ready to pop out upon Winnie and 
give her a ‘delightful surprise.” 

“Well, I declare!” said Hilary, opening his 
brown eyes very wide. “ He and his sister are 
the friends she ’s so enthusiastic about. I should 
like to meet him.” 

“ Well, you need n’t be in a hurry, as I said 
before,” replied Corinne. “I fancy they don’t 
care for any other company just now.” 

“ Do you mean to say, Corinne — ” 

“No, I don’t ‘mean to say’ anything, sir,” 
said his sister with good-humored wilfulness. 
“I’m only fancying something. And if it ’s so 
I shall be right glad.” 

Was it only on Winnie’s account Corinne 
would feel glad? Doubtless she felt a kindly 
interest in her cousin’s welfare and loved her 
at heart in spite of the cloud that had lately 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


I8; 

risen between them. But the exulting thought 
also passed through her mind, “ If what I fancy 
is true, Winnie will be quite taken up with Mr. 
Chesnutwood and I shall have my dear brother 
all to myself again.” 

Hilary, however, looked rather grave. '‘I 
hope he is worthy of her, Corinne. Winnie is 
a real jewel. I love her already as if she were a 
sister of my own. The man she marries ought 
to be a man of education and refinement, and 
above all thoroughly good and noble.” 

“ Well,” said Corinne, stifling a jealous pang, 
^‘it is easy to see that Winnie thinks he ’s abso- 
lute perfection, and she has known him for 
years. He certainly is very gentlemanly and 
agreeable. At all events you and I wont be 
called upon to decide the matter. And now, 
Hilary,” laying her head upon his shoulder, 
“tell me all about your evening at the Al- 
driches’.” 

Leaving them to talk together up stairs, let 
us return to the parlor. 

Clive did not show himself at once to Win- 
nie when Hilary and Corinne had disappeared, 
but waited for a moment considering how he 
could best make his presence known. He 
stepped forward a little towards the parlor and 
his step aroused her. She started up and stood 
gazing about her with a bewildered look, and 


1 88 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

seeing no one in the parlor, stepped forward 
and peered into the dining-room, where Clive 
stood, looking a little roguish, but with a glad 
smile lighting up his whole face. 

“Oh, Clive !” exclaimed Winnie, clasping the 
hand he held out. She could say no more, for 
the joyful surprise was almost too much for 
her. 

“ My dear Winnie !” said Clive, and then 
somehow his arm was around her, and the 
words were spoken that had long been in his 
heart, but which he had not meant to speak for 
some weeks to come. 

Half an hour after they sat by the fire to- 
gether, quietly but thoroughly happy. Clive 
had been drawing an ideal picture of their “ lit- 
tle home,” where Winnie and he and their dear 
Sophie should live together in such love and 
harmony as had never been known before. 

“ And Sophie must be the housekeeper,” said 
Winnie, in her artless way. “She is a great 
deal more capable than I am, anyhow, and I 
know how she must have looked forward to 
keeping house for you in a dear little home of 
your own.” 

“My own little Winnie, if that isn’t just 
like you!” said Clive, with an amused smile. 
“ Do n’t you suppose that Sophie, who knows all 
my secrets, knew that I was going to ask you 


WINNIE'S CALLER. 1 89 

this question sooner or later ?• She wishes 
above all things to have you for a sister, and 
do you suppose she would consent for a mo- 
ment to deprive you of your rightful place?” 

Oh, do n’t talk about my rightful place,” re- 
plied Winnie in a distressed tone. ‘‘ How ab- 
surd it would be for an inexperienced thing 
like me to put on such airs. Dear Clive,” look- 
ing wistfully up into his face, ‘‘ I sha’ n’t feel in 
my rightful place if I do the least thing to make 
Sophie unhappy. She will have got used to 
keeping house for you, and though of course 
she would be very sweet and unselfish about it, 
I ’m sure it would be a real trial to her to have 
me come in and push her to the wall. I should 
love to have her go on just the same, and — ” 
“There, there, you blessed, unselfish soul!” 
said Clive, “don’t worry any more. We shall 
have to arrange matters to suit you and Sophie 
both, for she will be as anxious to yield to you 
as you to her, and nothing would make her so 
unhappy as to feel that she was taking your 
place. Let me see ! How would it do for you 
and her to take the housekeeping on alternate 
months? As for me,” assuming a grandilo- 
quent air, “ I shall constitute myself the judge 
of you both. The little household queen who 
through the four or five weeks of her reign 
gives me clear coffee and keeps her account 


igo WINNIE lorimer’s visit. 

books straight, shall receive at the end of the 
month a chromo and my warmest compli- 
ments.’' 

Winnie’s silvery laugh rang out at the con- 
clusion of his speech. 

Well, Mr. * Judge,’ that would be an induce- 
ment, and especially the offer of the chromos. 
May I ask if you expect to decorate our rooms 
with those gems of art? Oh, Clive! I’m sure 
we shall be so happy together, all three of us.” 

“Of course we shall, my little treasure!” 
said Clive, and then they were blissfully silent 
for a few moments. Suddenly Corinne’s voice 
was heard as she came singing down the stairs. 

Winnie rose immediately, took a seat oppo- 
site, and hastily put on the little shoes Clive had 
made her take off and which had been drying 
by the fire. She had scarcely done this ere her 
cousin entered. 

“ Here are your slippers, Winnie,” she said, 
looking a trifle roguish as she presented them. 

“ Oh, thank you, dear ; I ’m so sorry you took 
that trouble,” Winnie replied. “ I suppose I 
hardly need to give Mr. Chesnutwood a formal 
introduction to you, Corinne,” she added with a 
smile. “ You and he seem to have become quite 
well acquainted already.” 

Clive had risen, and he and Corinne shook 
hands laughingly together. 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


I9I 

“ I knew Mr. Chesnutwood at once from his 
picture,” said Corinne; “he hardly needed to 
introduce himself.” 

“Your cousin gave me a very hospitable 
welcome,” said Clive to Winnie, “and was so 
kind as to play for me. I have n’t had such a 
musical treat for a long time.” 

“ I knew you would enjoy hearing her,” said 
Winnie, looking as pleased as she felt. “Co- 
rinne dear, do sit down and finish that piece 
you were playing when Hilary and I came in.” 

“Yes, do. Miss Corinne!” chimed in Clive 
with genuine cordiality. But the young dam- 
sel, whose keen eyes had taken in the situation 
at a glance, politely declined. 

“Thank you, not this evening; some other 
time I will finish it for you if you like, but I 
think I ’ll say good-night now, Mr. Chesnut- 
wood,” holding out her hand to him again. 
“ I ’m very glad to have met you, and hope we 
shall see you here often.” 

She could not restrain an arch glance from 
him to Winnie as she spoke, and a sly twinkle 
in Clive’s gray eyes showed his amusement. 
But he preserved his gravity and made her a 
courteous reply. Bidding Winnie an affection- 
ate good-night she tripped away, closing the 
door carefully behind her. 

“Corinne evidently understands the situa- 


192 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

tion and has given us a blessing after her own 
fashion,” said Clive, laughing. “What a mis- 
chievous witch it is !” 

“Yes, but she has a very kind, generous 
heart, Clive, for all her fun. I do hope you 
will like her.” 

“ I shall like her if she treats my dear girl as 
she ought to be treated,” said Clive in a more 
serious tone. “There, don’t look so unhappy, 
my child. From Corinne’s own words this 
evening I judged that she had not been nice to 
you of late, and it displeased me. But she is a 
very frank, warm-hearted girl in spite of her 
faults; I can see that plainly enough, for it 
doesn’t take long to read such a transparent 
character as hers. And I dare say we shall be 
good friends, though we may have to have a 
battle royal first.” 

“Oh, I hope not,” said Winnie apprehen- 
sively. 

“You little soft-hearted thing, I believe you 
have n’t a particle of malice or revenge in your 
composition !” answered Clive, looking at her 
with admiration. “ But,” he added cheerfully, 
“ you ’ve no occasion to worry. If I find that 
Corinne is treating you unkindly I shall cer- 
tainly take the first opportunity to tell her some 
unpleasant but wholesome truths. It would do 
her good, and I dare say she would n’t like me a 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


J93 


bit the worse for it. But now, little one,” glan- 
cing at the clock, “it is nearly eleven, and I 
must go home and write to your father to ask 
his consent.” 

Winnie could not help sighing to herself as 
she reflected how little her step-father was 
likely to concern himself about the matter. He 
would be glad to get her off his hands — of that 
the poor child was only too sure. And had he 
been a more affectionate father he could have 
made no objection to a young man of Clive’s 
character and standing. 

She did not, however, speak out the thoughts 
that were in her mind, but only said gently, 
“ Yes, Clive, you must write to him and I must 
write too.” 

“ And I want to have a good talk with your 
uncle, Winnie, when I come back to the city.” 

“Oh, yes, dear uncle! Clive, you don’t 
know how kind, how lovely he has been to me ! 
I want you to get well acquainted with him and 
with the rest of the family.” 

Clive left for Briarville the next morning, 
but returned in a few days, as he had said, 
bringing his sister with him. An old friend of 
his father’s had offered him an excellent posi- 
tion in his store, a large wholesale establish- 
ment, and Clive had gladly accepted it, resign- 

13 


Winnie Lorimer’s Visit. 


194 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


ing the place lie had held in the Briarville bank 
for over three years. 

The joy with which Sophie and Winnie met 
again need not be described. What pleasure 
the two sisters,” as they already called them- 
selves, and Clive took in the new home, in 
making purchases for it, in hanging pictures, 
arranging furniture, and taking the cosiest of 
meals together ! 

The professor had looked pretty serious when 
he first heard of Winnie’s engagement, and de- 
clared that he must know a good deal more about 
the young man before he gave-///^ consent. But 
he was much pleased to learn that the merchant 
who had taken Clive into his employ was an old 
friend of his own. He called upon Mr. Frazer 
immediately, and received from him the most 
satisfactory accounts of young Chesnutwood and 
his family. As soon as Clive returned to the 
city he visited the professor and had a long in- 
terview with him. He brought letters of recom- 
mendation from his pastor, from the president 
of the bank, and other leading men in Briarville, 
all couched in the warmest terms, and Clive’s 
own frank, manly bearing made the most favor- 
able impression upon Winnie’s uncle. He told 
the young couple, however, that they rdust not 
consider themselves engaged until a letter should 
arrive from Oscar -Markham giving his consent. 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


195 


That letter came by return post, for, as poor 
Winnie had anticipated, her stepfather was only 
too happy to have her transferred to some one 
else’s protection ; and he must have been fearful 
also that his brother might interpose some ob- 
jections to the sudden engagement, for, besides 
writing to Clive and Winnie, he took pains to 
send him quite a lengthy epistle also. In this 
letter he spoke in the highest terms of Clive, 
with whom he had been associated in the bank 
for 3^ears,” spoke with satisfaction of the young 
man’s bright prospects for the future, and ex- 
pressed his earnest wish that the marriage should 
take place as soon as possible ; Winnie was old 
enough to know her own mind, she and Clive 
had been acquainted for years, and as for her 
trousseau^ six weeks was certainly time enough 
to prepare such a modest one as hers must neces- 
sarily be. He himself, he said, was a poor man, 
and it would be sheer folly to talk of marriage 
settlements, but he inclosed a hundred dollars 
(which he had difficulty enough in scraping to- 
gether), and which he desired her aunt to take 
charge of and to lay out to the best advantage 
of the girl. If it was intrusted to Winnie she 
would doubtless give half of it to the missiona- 
ries. 

This was intended partly for a joke, but Clive 
Chesnutwood’s offer had evidently put Mr. Mark- 


196 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

ham in the best of spirits. He went on to ex- 
press his regret that he could not be present at 
the wedding — it was simply impossible, as busi- 
ness would require him to remain in Europe for 
years to come. He could trust his dear brother 
and sister to act the part of a father and mother 
towards Winnie, and he inclosed another hun- 
dred to defray the “ necessary expenses they 
would be called upon to meet.” 

Once again, towards the close of the letter, 
and in even stronger terms than he had used 
before, he urged, almost commanded, that the 
wedding should take place in six weeks at the 
latest. Life was at best an uncertain thing — he 
might be taken off ” any day — and it would be 
the greatest relief to his mind to think that Win- 
nie was provided for for life. He ended with 
profuse expressions of thanks to his brother and 
sister-in-law for the great kindness they had 
shown towards his “ motherless daughter.” 

Great was the good professor’s indignation 
when he received this letter from his brother. 
The idea of the marriage being hurried on in 
this way was most distasteful to him. He had 
expected that Winnie would be allowed at least 
to graduate first, and this she could easily have 
done at the end of another year, as, being far 
advanced in her studies, she had entered the 
senior class. He was not wont to complain of 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


197 


his brother, but this time he was so wrought up 
that he carried the letter to his wife and poured 
out to her the indignation with which his heart 
was full. 

Mrs. Markham listened calmly till he was 
through, and then, to his intense surprise, 
showed a strong inclination to take his brother’s 
side in the matter. She thought indeed that he 
might have been more generous with his money, 
as he evidently had no intention of ever making 
any further provision for the girl. But Oscar 
Markham always had been “close,” and there 
was no use in entering into any argument with 
him. What money was lacking for Winnie’s 
wedding expenses they must supply, and she 
need never know that it did not all come from 
her father. 

As for the marriage taking place in six 
weeks, she felt sure that they ought to regard 
Oscar Markham’s wishes in the matter. He was 
the one certainly who was entitled to speak with 
authority on this point, and the reasons he had 
given for his decision were very forcible ones. 
Life was very uncertain, as he had said, and if 
he or Clive Chesnutwood should die before the 
marriage took place, Winnie’s future would be 
very uncertain too. The professor had not the 
means to provide for her, and she was too gen- 
tle, too sensitive a little creature to fight her way 


198 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

in the world alone. As for Clive, every one 
spoke highly of him, and she herself had been 
very much pleased with his considerate ways, 
not only towards Winnie, but towards his orphan 
sister also. A good brother was likely to make 
a good husband. Clive himself was anxious to 
have the marriage take place as soon as possible. 
Winnie, of course, being naturally docile, would 
submit to his judgment and her father’s, and if 
these three were agreed upon the matter, she 
did not see why the professor or any of his fam- 
ily should interpose objections. 

So she argued on ; but with an absence of 
her usual candor, she did not tell her husband 
one of the strongest motives that was at work in 
her heart. She was anxious to get Winnie out 
of the house, for however gentle and lovely the 
girl might be, she felt she was, to use her own 
words, “an inharmonious member of the fam- 
ily,” and she dreaded her influence, not only 
upon Hilary, but upon her husband. To do her 
justice, however, she would not have consented 
to the hasty marriage had she not been so 
pleased with Clive and the numerous testimo- 
nials to his character. 

The good professor, flnding his wife so calmly 
resolute, yielded at last, though very reluctantly, 
and after consultation with Clive and Winnie, 
the marriage was set for the tenth of January. 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


199 


Corinne was intensely interested in her cous- 
in’s marriage, and her only vexation was that 
through her own imprudence she had taken an- 
other cold, so severe this time that it confined 
her to the house for over three weeks. She was 
painting a china tea-set for Winnie, and this, 
with the studies she kept up, occupied most of 
her time. She was now all tenderness to her 
cousin, and quite fell in love with Sophie, who 
with Clive was invited to the Markhams’ to din- 
ner, and charmed them all by her engaging 
ways. 

At Mrs. Markham’s request Hilary went with 
her to hear Mr. Charlton one evening. Amy 
Porter had told the preacher about the young 
man and his mother, and as soon as the sermon 
was over she hastened to make them acquainted 
with him. 

Mr. Charlton was a genial, pleasant man, and 
like most people took a great fancy to Hilary at 
first sight. He shook hands with him and his 
mother, chatted pleasantly with them for a few 
moments, and gave them a most cordial invita- 
tion to come to his church whenever they felt 
inclined. 

Hilary thanked him politely, yet there was 
an unwonted reserve in his manner that dis- 
pleased his mother and made her uneasy. She 
tried to make up for it by being unusually cor- 


200 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


dial herself, and as soon as they were outside 
the church said somewhat sharply to her son, 

“ Hilary, I think you might have been a little 
more responsive to Mr. Charlton, he was so kind 
and cordial. What was the matter ? Did n’t 
you enjoy his lecture this evening?” 

‘‘ He is a very pleasant man, and his lecture 
was a fine one, no doubt,” Hilary replied ; “ but 
somehow it was not what I wanted to hear.” 

‘‘And what did you want to hear?” asked 
his mother. “What is there in Dr. Truman’s 
preaching that fascinates you so ?” 

“ I can hardly tell you, mother,” said Hilary ; 
and indeed he would have found it difficult to 
explain his feelings to her, for he could scarcely 
understand them himself. What was that hun- 
ger of the soul which had been awakened by 
Dr. Truman’s sermons and which drove him 
Sunday after Sunday to the church where he 
preached ? The sermon he had listened to that 
morning had moved him more deeply than any 
that had gone before. It was a presentation of 
Christ in all his fulness as the Saviour, the 
Friend, the Teacher of any soul that in sim- 
plicity and singleness of heart committed itself 
to his care. Hilary listened spellbound, and the 
preacher’s words held possession of him through 
the rest of the day. He shut himself up in his 
room after dinner to study, to reflect, and to 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 


201 


pray, poor boy, that if there were such a Saviour 
He would send light into his perplexed soul. 
Such honest-hearted prayers are always heard ; 
and though the opinions instilled into Hilary’s 
mind from childhood could not at once be driven 
out, they would soon take their flight, like bats 
before the sunshine. 

Hilary did not dream, however, what kind 
Hand was leading him, and when the tea-bell 
rang he came down stairs unhappy, restless, un- 
satisfied. He said to himself that he could bear 
this burden alone no longer ; he would seek out 
Dr. Truman as soon as the services were over 
that evening and open his whole heart to him. 

When his mother asked him to take her to 
hear Dr. Charlton that evening a refusal almost 
sprang to his lips. The disappointment was too 
bitter ; he felt that he must have help from the 
man whose preaching had so stirred his soul 
within him ; but he choked back the words of 
refusal and answered, though in a somewhat 
unsteady voice, “Yes, mother, I will go with 
you.” 

As he went up stairs for his coat and hat he 
resolved to call upon Dr. Truman the following 
day. 

Mr. Charlton’s lecture was undoubtedly a fine 
one, but to this poor boy hungering for the 
bread of life it was most unsatisfying. He tried 


202 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

to fix his attention upon the speaker, for he 
knew that his mother would wish to discuss the 
lecture with him afterwards ; but thoughts sug- 
gested by Dr. Truman’s sermon kept coming 
into his mind, and he could n’t drive them away. 

Mrs. Markham felt bitterly disappointed that 
he showed so little enthusiasm about Mr. Charl- 
ton, but his answer to her second question some- 
what relieved her. 

“ Dr. Truman’s doctrines cannot have taken 
very strong hold of him,” she thought, “ since 
he answers in that uncertain way. There must 
be some personal magnetism about the man that 
attracts him.” 

“ I shall try and go myself to hear Dr. Tru- 
man next Sunday evening,” she said aloud. “ I 
want to find out what is the wonderful charm of 
his preaching.” 

Hilary winced a little, for he felt what an 
unsympathetic listener his mother was likely 
to prove. She would go in a coldly critical 
frame of mind and do her best in her conversa- 
tion with Hilary afterward to pick the sermon 
to pieces. But he only answered, 

“Very well, mother, I shall be ready to go 
with you.” 

On the following day Hilary called at 
Dr. Truman’s. To his great astonishment he 
learned that the minister and his wife had left 


WINNIE’S CALLER. 203 

for Boston that afternoon to attend the wedding 
of a friend, and would not be back till Wednes- 
day night. Winnie’s marriage would take place 
on Thursday and Sophie had been invited to 
stay at the Markhams’ while the young couple 
went on a short bridal tour. Corinne, who was 
nearly well again, and who flitted hither and 
thither through the house like an excited hum- 
ming-bird,. was delighted at the prospect, and 
assured Winnie again and again that she would 
do her best to make her lovely little sister-in- 
law perfectly happy. 

As Hilary walked sadly home it suddenly 
occurred to him that Winnie went every Friday 
evening to a meeting at her church. 

“ I ’ll go to that meeting,” he thought. “ Dr. 
Truman will be there of course, and I shall have 
a chance to talk with him then. I do shrink 
from opening my heart to him or any one else, 
but I cannot bear this state of things any 
longer.” 


204 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 

“ May I come in, mother? Everybody seems 
to be out, and I feel lonesome somehow,” said 
Corinne, putting her head into Mrs. Markham’s 
room on the Sunday following Winnie’s wed- 
ding. 

“Yes, come in, daughter; it is time I began 
to dress for dinner,” her mother answered, lay- 
ing down her pen. 

“ Oh, dear, I did n’t realize how much I 
should miss Winnie!” sighed Corinne, sinking 
into a rocking-chair near her mother’s dressing- 
table. “ How lovely the little thing did look in 
her white crape and lilies of the valley,” she 
went on, “more like Titaniathan ever!” 

“Yes, she made a charming bride and I 
think she has every prospect of a happy fu- 
ture,” said Mrs. Markham, who was exchanging 
her merino wrapper for a dressing-sack. “ I am 
very much pleased with Mr. Chesnutwood, and 
with his sister too.” 

“Yes, she ’s a lovely girl, but somehow I had 
grown so used to Winnie,” replied Corinne. 
“She can’t take her place. Perhaps,” she went 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 205 

on, with one of her whimsical looks, “ it 's partly 
because I feel that I must n’t allow myself to 
quarrel with her at all. And that does put such 
a restraint upon a person.” 

“ I am thankful if you feel the restraint,” 
said Mrs. Markham, who was now brushing out 
her long hair and who paused a moment to look 
gravely at her daughter. “ I wish I could con- 
vince you, Corinne, how very unlady-like and 
childish as well as wrong it is to allow yourself 
to quarrel with any one. If you do not learn to 
be mistress over your temper you will become 
its slave in time.” 

There was a moment or two of silence, then 
Mrs. Markham said with a change of tone, 

‘‘Where is Sophie this morning, Corinne, 
and where is your brother Hilary?” 

“Sophie has gone to hear that everlasting 
Dr. Truman,” answered Corinne pettishly, “ and 
I dare say Hilary kept her company. Next 
thing he will be joining that church !” 

“ I feel very uneasy about him,” replied her 
mother, as she wound her hair into a thick coil 
at the back of her head. “ Several times lately 
I have noticed an anxious, perplexed expression 
on his face as if he were troubled about some- 
thing. He has grown so reticent that it is use- 
less to question him. Corinne,” turning upon 
the girl again, “ I intended to go with him to 


2o6 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

hear that man this evening, but it ’s impossible. 
I have an article to finish this afternoon, and 
then am going out to tea. You are so well 
now that the night air will not injure you, and 
I want you to go and keep guard over your 
brother.” 

Keep guard over him ?” said Corinne, half 
amused, half flattered at the expression. “What 
do you mean, mother ? Is n’t he big enough to 
take care of himself ?” 

“ Do n’t joke about this serious matter, Co- 
rinne ! I want you to keep those bright eyes of 
yours wide open this evening. If Hilary stops 
to talk with Dr. Truman or any of those people, 
notice their manner to him and what they say. 
And above all, do n’t let them have any private 
conversation with him.” 

“Trust me for that!” said Corinne, with a 
defiant little toss of her head. “They wont 
even have a chance to say good evening to the 
boy, for I shall make him bring me home the 
moment church is over. And wont I make fun 
of the sermon all the way !” 

“Ah, Corinne, that is just what I am afraid 
of, that you may give that little sarcastic tongue 
of yours too much rein. You would only make 
Hilary angry and provoke him into defending 
Dr. Truman. And the result would be that he 
would like him more than ever !” 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 20J 

“Well, I’ll be careful, mother,” replied Co- 
rinne, “though it does strike me that a little 
ridicule might be the best cure for Hilary. 
We ’ve all taken the matter so seriously. 
There !” starting up from her chair, “ he ’s com- 
ing in with Sophie now. No doubt they went 
to church together.” 

“Well, you go with him this evening,” an- 
swered her mother, smiling. “Of course you 
must ask her to accompany you ; it would not 
be polite to leave her behind.” 

“Oh, dear! to think that I am forced to go 
and hear that man,” sighed Corinne. “ He ’ll 
bore me I know. I shall feel as if I were on 
pins and needles all the time.” 

“ For my part, I think he must be a very 
able preacher,” said her mother thoughtfully, 
as she fastened a pearl brooch at her throat, 
“or Hilary would not be so fascinated with 
him. And his conversation and whole appear- 
ance show that he is no ordinary man. How- 
ever,” glancing at her daughter with a smile, 
you would be bored by any kind of preaching, 
and I think I can trust you to go and hear Dr. 
Truman with perfect safety.” 

“ I hope that ’s not your only reason, mo- 
ther,” replied Corinne, a little piqued. “ If I 
thought him ever so interesting he couldn’t 
argue me into his opinions.” 


20S WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT, 

“ I do n’t believe he could, daughter, other- 
wise I shouldn’t have asked you to go with 
your brother. I can’t imagine you believing 
religious fables or going about with a long face 
confessing yourself a miserable sinner. Your 
keen sense of the ridiculous would save from 
that if nothing else.” 

Indeed it would, mother,” replied Corinne, 
laughing at the idea. “You need have no fear 
that I shall ever make such a fool of myself. 
And you don’t really think,” looking grave 
now, “that our Hilary could ever behave in 
that way?” 

“I don’t know,” said her mother, sighing; 
“ he is such an impressionable, imaginative boy, 
with a vein of enthusiasm in his nature that 
may incline him to a visionary religion. I 
tremble for him, and yet how can I lay my 
commands upon him not to go to that church 
any more ? He is too old for that, and it might 
just end in driving him into the arms of those 
people.” 

“They sha’n’t get him away from us!” ex- 
claimed Corinne. “ The dreadful creatures ! 
You and I will keep guard over him and dis- 
appoint them, mother. But there’s the din- 
ner-bell ringing. Oh, dear! it seems to me I 
never knew such a long morning as this has 
been.” 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 


209 


Hilary took little part in the conversation at 
the table, and directly dinner was over went to 
his own room. 

When he came out again, late in the after- 
noon, there was an expression on his face that 
would have told an eye accustomed to such 
signs that the conflict in his soul was over. 
The look of anxious inquiry had given place to 
one of peace and tender elevation, yet a shade 
of seriousness was also there. He realized, poor 
boy, what pain he was about to inflict upon his 
mother and sisters, and his heart, always so ten- 
der and loyal to them, shrank from the thought 
of their suffering. No doubt he dreaded their 
displeasure, also, yet he was too manly and in- 
genuous, and too full of love and gratitude to- 
wards the Saviour who had redeemed him, to 
dream of concealing the truth, even for a time. 
He left the house immediately and did not re- 
turn till nearly six o’clock. 

The professor, with his wife and Harriet, 
had gone to take tea with a friend, and as Con- 
rad was also absent and Sophie confined to her 
room with a severe headache that had attacked 
her suddenly, Hilary, Mary, and Corinne had 
the table to themselves. 

The sisters were both struck with the change 
of expression in Hilary’s face and did not know 
how to account for it. They asked no questions, 

14 


Winnie Loiimer's Visit. 


210 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


however, and Corinne, delighted at the prospect 
of having her brother all to herself for the even- 
ing, was in the highest spirits, and laughed and 
chattered almost without intermission during 
the meal. Hilary said little, but his manner 
towards his sisters was even more kind and 
affectionate than usual, and Corinne, charmed 
with him and with herself, began to hope that 
her task of winning him away from his new 
friends would prove less difficult than she had 
supposed. 

She was undeceived, however, towards the 
close of the meal. In her bright, impetuous 
way she suddenly inquired, 

“And what took you out this afternoon, Hil- 
ary, if I may ask ?” 

Her brother colored a little, but answered 
promptly, 

“ I went round to church, Corinne.” 

“What in the world took you round to 
church at that hour?” asked his sister in a 
tone of mingled surprise and annoyance. “ The 
Sunday-school is out by four o’clock, I know. 
Winnie told me so.” 

“Yes, Corinne, but they have a short prayer- 
meeting afterwards, and I went round to that.” 

All the sunshine had gone out of Corinne’s 
face, leaving an ominous frown in its stead. 

“A prayer-meeting!” she said in a tone of 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 


21 1 


the bitterest contempt. “Well, I didn’t dream 
you had come to that yet. And may I ask if 
you took your place on the ‘mourners’ bench’?” 

“Corinne!” said Mary in a tone of remon- 
strance, but her sister’s bitter little tongue could 
not be stayed. 

“Your precious Dr. Truman was there, I 
suppose ; and you stayed and talked with him 
and that brought you home so late ! Upon my 
word, Hilary, I think you would better sleep 
and take your meals at that church Sundays, 
and so escape spending any time on that day 
with your family !” 

“ Dr. Truman was there, and I stayed to talk 
with him afterwards,” replied her brother. “ But, 
Corinne,” with a gentle dignity in his manner 
that she could not help feeling, “ I cannot allow 
you to catechise me in that tone any longer. I 
have done nothing wrong, and it is not right 
that my younger sister should speak to me in 
such a way.” 

“ No, it is not right,” said Mary, interposing. 
“But, Hilary,” her sweet voice a little tremu- 
lous, “ I cannot agree with you, my dear boy, 
when you say that you are doing nothing wrong. 
You know how utterly opposed mother’s opin- 
ions are to Dr. Truman’s, and yet you persist in 
going to his church, and it is easy to see that 
you are coming more and more under his influ- 


212 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

ence. Is this treating our dear mother with the 
respect and affection she deserves ?” 

Hilary, who had risen from the table, stooped 
down and kissed his sister. “ I will talk with you 
later about this, dear Mary,” he said, his own 
voice a little unsteady. ^‘And now I will ask 
you to excuse me for a while.” 

He was leaving the room, but Corinne, who 
feared that she was losing all hold upon her 
brother, ran after him and caught his hand in 
both hers. “ O Hilary, do excuse me for speak- 
ing to you as I did,” she said with a sob in her 
voice. I ’m going with you to church this 
evening, if you’ll let me. But oh, don’t let 
those people get you away from us, or you ’ll 
break all our hearts !” her tears falling fast now. 

Hilary put his arm round her and kissed her. 
“ Do you think anything could ever alter my 
affection for you and the rest?” he asked in a 
tone of tender reproach. 

“But, Hilary, you wont do anything rash — 
wont take any step without consulting father 
and mother, will you ?” Then, after a moment’s 
hesitation, “ O Hilary, you wont be baptized to- 
night ?” she broke out, and hid her face on his 
shoulder. 

“Baptized to-night, you silly little thing!” 
said Hilary in a tone of tender impatience. 
“ What are you thinking about ? If I wanted to 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 213 

be baptized to-night, do you imagine that the 
church would receive me on such short notice? 
And,” he went on gravely, “you may be very 
sure that I would never take such a step without 
first talking the matter over with father and 
mother. Now let me go, my dear. I am glad 
to have your company to-night, and glad to have 
you hear Dr. Truman for yourself.” 

Corinne released him and he went quickly 
out, for he had resolved to open his heart to his 
father and mother before talking with the rest 
of the family. 

Corinne sank into a chair and sat gazing at 
her sister for a moment with a bewildered ex- 
pression. “ What do you think about him, 
Mary ?” she suddenly exclaimed. 

“ I think he appears very strangely,” Mary 
replied. “ And, excuse me, my dear, but I think 
it was foolish of you to speak of his being bap- 
tized. You may just have suggested the idea to 
his mind, when otherwise he would not have 
thought of such a thing.” 

“ Well, how could I tell what had been going 
on all these weeks?” replied Corinne. “They 
might have agreed to baptize him to-night for 
aught I know. And at any rate,” she went on, 
drawing a long breath, “he told me positively 
that he would never take such a step without 
consulting father and mother. That’s a com- 


214 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

fort, and I’m sure that they will never give 
their consent.” 

“I think you should have had more confi- 
dence in Hilary than to dream of his doing any- 
thing underhand,” said Mary. “ And now, dear, 
do be careful not to hurt his feelings in any way 
this evening. If — ” 

“Oh, don’t lecture me any more, please,” 
rejoined Corinne in a half-laughing, half-impa- 
tient tone. “I shall be just lovely to Hilary; 
but if any of those people try to get hold of him, 
or me either, they ’ll find me ‘ a thorn in their 
sides,’ or, better still, an icicle to freeze them.” 

“ Let ’s go into the gallery, Hilary,” said Co- 
rinne as they entered the vestibule of the church 
about an hour later. 

“ All right, little sister,” said Hilary kindly. 
“ Ah, here is Mr. Aldrich, whom I believe you 
have never met. Mr. Aldrich, this is my sister 
Corinne.” 

Corinne received Mr. Aldrich’s cordial greet- 
ing rather frostily and hurried Hilary away, 
though he evidently wished to speak with two 
or three other gentlemen who were conversing 
in the vestibule. 

They went up stairs and seated themselves 
in the gallery, Corinne feeling uncomfortable, 
out of place, and, above all, perverse in this unac- 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 21$ 

customed atmosphere. These feelings increased 
when the services began, and though she conde- 
scended to share a hymn-book with Hilary and 
occasionally glanced at the words of the hymn, 
there was a mocking look on her face that told 
what her thoughts were. The feeling with 
which Hilary sang could not escape her, and she 
turned suddenly and glanced full into his face. 
He met her look of indignant inquiry with one 
so steadfast, though full of affectionate yearning, 
that it increased her alarm and irritation; she 
turned pettishly away from him and let her eyes 
wander around the building. 

During the prayer that followed the reading 
from the Scriptures she sat with head erect and 
wide-open eyes, trying not to listen to Dr. Tru- 
man ; but his words and the tender solemnity of 
his manner held her attention in spite of herself, 
and a vague uneasiness she could not compre- 
hend filled her heart. She had had the same 
feeling while he read from the Bible. The won- 
drous, soul-searching words of the hundred and 
thirty-ninth Psalm had troubled, repelled, fasci- 
nated her all at once. 

The prayer ended, and again the voices of 
the congregation were lifted in song.. Dr. Tru- 
man had given out Bunting’s hymn, “ My Sab- 
bath suns may all have set,” and in vain Corinne 
tried to close her ears to the solemn words : 


2i6 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


“ The prophet of the cross may ne’er 
Again preach peace to me; 

The voice of interceding prayer 
A farewell voice may be. 

“While yet the life-proclaiming word 
Doth through my conscience thrill, 

Breathe life ; and lo ! divinely stirred, 

I can repent, I will !” 

“ What is the matter with me thought Co- 
rinne. “I do n’t believe this stuff, and why 
should it make me feel so? I wish I were at 
home ; it ’s enough to give one the blues for a 
week just to listen to them ! How can Hilary 
bear to come to this place !” 

She made a resolute effort to shake off the 
feelings that oppressed her, and settled herself 
with a defiant air to listen to the sermon. Dr. 
Truman had chosen for his subject the last two 
verses of the hundred and thirty-ninth Psalm, 
and they thrilled Corinne as he repeated them : 

Search me, O God, and know my heart ; try 
me, and know my thoughts ; 

“ And see if there be any wicked way in me, 
and lead me in the way everlasting.” 

“ It ’s going to be what these people call a 
'searching’ sermon, I suppose,” thought Co- 
rinne with an impatient little shrug of her shoul- 
ders. "Well, it can’t last for ever, that’s one 
comfort, and I ’m determined I ’ll just fix my 
mind on something else.”- 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 21/ 

An easy resolve to make and impossible to 
keep. Dr. Truman had not spoken ten minutes 
ere Corinne was listening in breathless atten- 
tion, the angry tumult in her soul increasing 
with every word. 

Rarely has there been a man gifted with a 
deeper insight into character than Dr. Truman. 
Of a noble, generous nature, himself incapable 
of anything crooked or base, he yet understood 
as few men did the workings of the human heart, 
its secret motives and springs of action. This 
knowledge came partly, of course, from his pen- 
etrating insight into character. But must not 
much of it have been due to his incessant study 
of the Word, that two-edged sword that pierces 
even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, 
and to his constant dependence in his prayers 
and in his preaching upon the directing Spirit 
of God ? 

Corinne listened fascinated, as if some spell 
were upon her from which she could not escape. 
This feeling increased every moment, and it 
seemed to her at last as if a ruthless hand were 
tearing away the veil from secret chambers in 
her soul that she had never even dreamed were 
there. She shrank within herself ; it seemed at 
times as if she could hardly keep from shrieking 
aloud, yet the angry, rebellious feeling was up- 
permost. A feverish flush rose in her cheek ; 


2i8 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

she set her teeth defiantly, as if resolute that not 
even a trembling of the lips should betray her 
agitation. 

Dr. Truman closed his sermon with a few 
words of comfort to those who had become con- 
scious of the evil of their hearts and longed to 
be forgiven and renewed. Tenderly he pointed 
them to Jesus, the Redeemer, the Great Physi- 
cian of souls, and besought them to take refuge 
in Him. 

Tears started involuntarily to Corinne’s eyes, 
but she was in no mood to allow herself to be 
touched, and angrily forced them back. During 
the brief, fervent prayer that followed the ser- 
mon she sat bolt upright, defiant, and when the 
singing began and Hilary offered to share the 
hymn-book with her, she pettishly pushed it 
away. 

As soon as the benediction was pronounced 
she turned to her brother and said in a hard 
voice, “ Thank goodness, it ’s over ! And now 
let ’s get out of this place as soon as possible, if 
you please.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to stay to the prayer- 
meeting, Corinne ?” asked Hilary gently. “It 
only lasts a few moments.” 

Corinne answered him by a look. Turning, 
she hurried out, and he was fain to follow her as 
fast as he could. 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 2 IQ 

They walked on together for some moments 
in silence ; then Corinne said in a voice tremu- 
lous with passionate feeling, 

“Hilary, how can you endure to listen to 
such a man ?” 

“ What do you mean, Corinne T* 

“ Mean ! He ’s the cruellest man I ever came 
across. Talk of his kindness indeed! Only a 
cruel man could have the heart to dissect people 
alive as he does. But I dare say he enjoys it, 
gloats over it, in fact.” 

Now Hilary was not gifted with much in- 
sight into character. Nevertheless, it struck 
him that there was something peculiar in the 
passion Corinne was displaying, and the tone in 
which he answered was searching as well as kind. 

“What is the matter, Corinne? What was 
there in Dr. Truman’s sermon that excited you 
so?” 

“ His sermon indeed !” replied his sister in a 
tone of angry contempt. “ Do you really sup- 
pose that I would allow anything that man said 
to influence me ? All the same, he must have a 
cruel nature to preach in that way.” 

Hilary’s heart swelled with indignation. 
Feeling as he did the warmest respect and affec- 
tion for Dr. Truman, whom he looked upon as 
his spiritual father, he could not endure this 
tirade against him any longer. 


220 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

“ I wish you would be silent, Corinne, if you 
cannot speak without abusing Dr. Truman. I 
love and reverence him more than I can tell 
you, and — ” 

“Yes, I ’ve no doubt you care more for him 
now than you do for any member of your own 
family. Pretty soon you will be looking upon 
us all as a set of wicked sinners — just as he feels 
towards any one who does n’t think as he does. 
Humph ! I guess our hearts are ten times better 
than his, and with some human kindness in them 
too. Hilary,” unconsciously raising her voice a 
little in her excitement, “ if you join his church 
and get to feeling as he does I shall get to hate 
you, to hate you, do you hear?” 

“Will you be quiet?” said Hilary in that 
low, resolute tone that rarely failed to check 
her. It silenced her now, yet she was in too 
angry and rebellious a mood to make any apol- 
ogy to her brother. Not another word was spo- 
ken on the way home, for Hilary felt that in her 
present temper it would be best to leave her 
alone. He regretted that she had heard the ser- 
mon that evening, for, as we have said before, 
he had not much insight into character, and 
could not therefore enter into the feelings of a 
nature so different from his own. He had none 
of Corinne’s passionate wilfulness of tempera- 
ment, and the conflict in his soul had arisen 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 


22 1 


solely from his uncertainty as to which was the 
rig-ht path to take. Once convinced that the 
divine voice was calling him, he had obeyed and 
yielded himself up with childlike docility into 
the Saviour’s hands, to be moulded as He would. 

When he and Corinne entered their front 
hall the first person they encountered was Mrs. 
Markham coming down stairs. She and the 
others had come in a few minutes before, and 
she had been up to her room to take off her bon- 
net and cloak. 

‘‘ Ah ! here you are, young folks,” she said in 
a pleasant voice, but glancing keenly as she 
spoke from Hilary’s face to Corinne’s, in which a 
feverish flush was still burning. 

^‘Yes, here we are, thank goodness!” an- 
swered Corinne shortly, as she began mechani- 
cally to pull off her gloves. Conrad, who loved 
to tease his sister, and who guessed from her 
tone that she had come home in no amiable 
mood, stepped out of the parlor. 

“Well, Corinne, and how did you enjoy Bro- 
ther Truman ?” 

“ I think he ’s just horrid I” said Corinne in a 
voice half choked with passionate feeling, and 
then turning, she rushed up stairs as fast as her 
feet could carry her. 

“ Whew I” exclaimed Conrad with a low whis- 
tle of amazement. “What ails the girl? Has 


222 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Dr. Truman been ‘laboring’ with her, Hil- 
ary ?” 

“ What ’s the meaning of all this, my son ?” 
asked the dismayed mother somewhat sternly. 

Hilary turned from his brother, and taking 
Mrs. Markham’s hand, said in a gentle but man- 
ly voice, 

“ Dr. Truman did not exchange a word with 
Corinne this evening, mother. She did n’t like 
his sermon, that’s what ’s the matter with her.” 
Then after a moment’s pause, “ I would like to 
have a talk with you and father, mother, before 
I go up stairs.” 

Hilary turned a little pale as he spoke, but 
looked the manly, honest-hearted young fellow 
he was. His mother too changed color, but an- 
swered promptly, “ Very well, my son. Your fa- 
ther is in the study ; we can go in there.” 

She led the way, very erect and dignified, 
while Conrad, with another long, low whistle, 
went back into the parlor, where his sister Mary 
was sitting. 

“ The mischief ’s done, I ’m afraid,” he said, 
as she looked up at him apprehensively. 

“ O Conrad !” 

“Yes, I’m sure Dr. Truman has made a 
‘convert’ of that simple-hearted boy, and now 
he ’s gone in to make his ‘ confession of faith ’ to 
father and mother.” 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 223 

What shall we do with him, Conrad ?” 

Do? Nothing, that I can see. Soft-hearted 
as Hilary is, he can be as obstinate as a young 
mule when he fancies he ’s in the right. Mother 
looks as if she were ‘armed for the fray,’ and 
possibly she may be able to do something with 
him. I doubt it though, for he has that look on 
his face that I ’ve learned to dread. You can’t 
coax, much less drive him, when he ’s in that 
mood. I don’t see any other way than to let 
him have his swing. He may get sick of ser- 
mons and prayer-meetings after a while.” 

The first thing Corinne did on reaching her 
room was to lock the door, that no one might in- 
trude upon her. Then she stood a moment, her 
eyes misty, her breast heaving, trying to fight 
down the nervous agitation against which she 
had struggled for the last hour. It was no use. 
Going to the lounge she threw herself down 
upon it, and hiding her face in the cushion, 
broke into half-hysterical weeping. She was 
determined that Sophie, who slept in the room 
adjoining, should not hear her, but it seemed as 
if it would suffocate her, the effort she made not 
to cry aloud. Wearied out at last, she lay still 
for some moments. 

When she raised her head her face was very 
pale, her eyes red with weeping, yet there was a 


224 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

“ set ” expression about her little mouth, for she 
was resolved not to give way any more. 

“ The idea of my making such a baby of my- 
self !” she said indignantly. It ’s all nervous- 
ness, of course. But certainly there is some- 
thing very remarkable about that man’s preach- 
ing. I do n’t wonder so much now that a boy 
like Hilary should be carried away with him.” 

She fell into a fit of musing, while the corners 
of her mouth gradually relaxed and the sombre, 
anxious look came back to her face. 

“ No, no, I wont believe it !” she said, rousing 
herself at last with a start ; “ I can’t have such a 
heart as that! Mother knows me better than 
any one else, knows all my faults, and she 
would n’t think such things of me, I ’m sure. I 
have a quick temper and I ’m too self-willed 
sometimes — I do n’t need to be told that — but 
I ’ve as good and true and loving a heart as 
you ’ll find anywhere. Lived for self all my life, 
indeed ! — made an idol of myself ! Why, I ’m 
perfectly devoted to my friends — one of the 
most generous, unselfish girls that ever lived — 
and I wont let such horrible thoughts trouble 
me any more. I ’ll just put Dr. Truman’s ser- 
mon out of my head and never go to hear him 
again.” 

She removed her hat and sack and put them 
away. Then, after bathing her face, she sat 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 22$ 

down with a novel, hoping that the story might 
divert her thoughts. 

But it was a vain attempt. She would read 
on for a few moments, becoming quite inter- 
ested, and then something, at times a chance 
expression in the book itself, would set her mind 
to wandering again over the forbidden track. 
Again and again she imagined herself in that 
church — again the hymn that had so affected 
her was sounding in her ears, or the preacher’s 
solemn words were burning into her soul like 
fire. 

She threw the book from her at last in des- 
pair. It ’s no use ! I ’m too nervous to enjoy 
the most entertaining novel to-night! If I can 
have a good night’s sleep I shall be quite myself 
to-morrow.” 

Not so, Corinne ! The voice of the Spirit is 
not to be stifled so easily! Again and again 
that voice will strive with you, and your way- 
ward efforts to close your heart against it will be 
of no avail ! 

She undressed as quickly as she could and 
crept into bed. But sleep was long in coming, 
and she tossed restlessly to and fro for hours 
before she fell at last into a troubled slumber. 
In her dreams she was always in the church 
again, listening to Dr. Truman, or muttering 
over and over to herself fragments of that warn- 

15 


Winnie Lorlniei’s ViRit. 


226 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

ing hymn. Three or four times she started up 
in affright, and only fell asleep again to dream 
the same things over. 

As the night advanced physical weariness 
began to get the better of her excitement. By 
degrees her dreams grew more tranquil, and at 
last she fell into a slumber so profound that a 
loud rapping at the door failed to awaken her. 
Harriet was fain to come in and shake her gent- 
ly before she could arouse the girl. 

Corinne ! Corinne ! You are not sick, child, 
are you?” she asked. It is after eight o’clock, 
and they are all at the breakfast table.” 

Corinne stared at her a moment, then started 
up in bed. ^‘Oh, dear! Why wasn’t I called 
before ?” she said crossly. “ Now I shall be late 
to school !’■ 

“ I am sorry, dear,” said Harriet, “ but we 
did n’t know that you were n’t up, you see. 
Don’t you feel well?” as she remarked her pale 
cheeks and heavy eyes. 

“Yes, well enough,” said Corinne shortly. 

“ I came up to call you myself,” said Harriet, 
lowering her voice, “because I had something 
particular to say to you. Mother is feeling very 
bad this morning on account of Hilary, and I 
hope you ’ll be very careful, dear, not to try her 
in any way even if you don’t feel as well as 
usual.” 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 22/ 

“ Well, now, I do n’t think you need to in- 
struct me how to behave to mother!” snapped 
Corinne. “ But what about Hilary ? That man 
has made a convert of him, I suppose.” 

“ Indeed he has, Corinne. The poor infatu- 
ated boy wants to be baptized, and, what seems 
so strange, father takes his part and seems ra- 
ther glad than otherwise. I can’t understand 
it,” said Harriet, wiping a tear from her eye, 
‘‘when he knows how it will separate Hilary 
from his family and friends. Mother has made 
him promise, though, that he will wait for a few 
weeks. She still hopes that when he has calmed 
down a little he may look at things in a differ- 
ent light.” 

“Well, it’s just as I expected,” said Co- 
rinne. “ How does Hilary seem ? Very much 
uplifted ?” 

“ Well, no, he seems rather down-hearted this 
morning, poor boy, because we are all pretty 
cool to him, all except father and Sophie. Mo- 
ther said last night that she thought he ought to 
be made to feel that he cannot be just the same 
to us that he was, if he persists in taking a step 
that will distress us so much. And she thinks it 
may be the best way to bring him to reason, for 
you know how dependent he is upon our affec- 
tion, Corinne. Of course, we do n’t want to say 
anything harsh or sarcastic to him — ” 


228 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


“ That last remark is intended for me, I sup- 
pose,” said the little snapping-turtle. Thank 
you very much ! And now you would better go 
down and get your breakfast, Harriet. I can 
dress in one-half the time if I ’m left to myself.” 

Corinne finished her dressing in nervous 
haste and went down stairs. As she entered 
the dining-room her mother darted a quick, 
searching glance at her, but instead of reproving 
her for her tardiness, bade her a kind good- 
morning. 

Corinne took her usual seat by Hilary, and as 
she did so their eyes met for a moment. His 
troubled look had something of entreaty in it, 
and said as plainly as words, “ Do you mean to 
treat me coldly too, little sister?” That look 
touched Corinne, and would have quite melted 
her but for the perverse mood she was in. As it 
was, she turned away from him after a brief, 
cold “ Good-morning ” and began to eat her 
breakfast in silence. 

An involuntary sigh broke from Hilary, and 
then glancing up, a little confused, his eyes met 
Sophie’s, who was seated opposite to him on the 
professor’s right hand. Her soft blue eyes were 
full of tears, for she had understood the sigh 
and the look of sad but manly resignation that 
accompanied it. 

The silent sympathy of the young girl was 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 


229 


very grateful to poor Hilary ; his face broke into 
a smile immediately as he addressed some pleas- 
ant remark to her across the table, which she 
answered in the same tone. Mrs. Markham’s 
face grew even more severe and melancholy 
than before, and Sophie, encountering a frigid 
glance from her, was suddenly chilled into si- 
lence. 

A cloud seemed hanging about the table 
which nothing could dispel. Conrad essayed a 
joke or two, but, as he said afterwards, they con- 
gealed immediately in the freezing atmosphere. 
He tried to rally Corinne a little, but she snap- 
ped him up immediately, in such a way as to 
draw forth a rebuke from her mother, though 
she included Conrad in the reproof. As for the 
professor, after two or three attempts to brighten 
the atmosphere, he relapsed into severe silence. 
His wife was as evidently displeased with him as 
she was with Hilary, and showed it in her man- 
ner more than in her words. 

“Will you excuse me, mother?” said Hilary, 
rising suddenly, for he felt that he could not 
bear the atmosphere of the table any longer. 

“ Certainly,” replied his mother in an icy 
tone, “ since you are anxious to leave us.” 

“ We ’ll go up together this morning, my 
dear boy,” said the professor, who, as we have 
said before, was a teacher in the college Hilary 


230 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

attended. I want to have a talk with you.” 
As he spoke he too rose to his feet. “ I will ask 
to be excused also, Elizabeth, as I have a little 
writing to attend to before I start.” 

Without waiting for an answer he threw his 
arm affectionately around Hilary’s shoulders, 
drawing him close to his side, and thus they left 
the room together. Mrs. Markham looked after 
them for a moment, then took up a letter that 
lay by her plate and began to glance it over ; 
but suddenly a tear rolled down her cheek ; she 
wiped it angrily away and went on reading. 

Sophie, who had been reproaching Mrs. Mark- 
ham in her heart, more on Hilary’s account than 
on her own, now felt a movement of sympathy 
towards her ; but of course she could say nothing, 
and though she felt that her presence might be 
a restraint upon the little group left at the table, 
she did not like to be excused so soon after the 
professor and Hilary. She addressed a remark 
or two to Corinne, but the latter, though she 
answered civilly enough, was evidently in no 
mood for conversation ; but in a moment more 
Conrad took the vacant chair by Sophie, and to 
her great relief began to talk with her about a 
new book he had just bought. They chatted 
together for a few minutes, and then she ex- 
cused herself in her turn and left the room. 

As soon as she was out of hearing Conrad 


THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 23 1 

said kindly, but with one of his odd looks, “ Will 
my dear mother and sisters allow me to make a 
suggestion to them ?” 

“ Certainly, Conrad,” said his mother, laying 
down her letter and fixing her eyes upon him. 

“ What is it?” 

“ Well, I would merely suggest that as Hil- . 
ary has neither forged a check nor murdered any 
one, but on the contrary is about to connect him- 
self with a highly respectable religious body, it 
is hardly worth while for us to act as if we had 
just had a funeral in the family. Of course the 
boy ’s acting foolishly, and I ’m very sorry for it, 
but there ’s no use treating him as if he had com- 
mitted some disgraceful crime.” 

I can’t look upon it as such a trifling mat- 
ter, my son,” replied his mother. “You know 
very well what those people believe, and ought 
to realize what a gulf it will place between Hil- 
ary and his family and friends if he should join 
them. And who knows but your father — ” She 
paused a moment, unable to trust her voice, then 
resumed in a firmer tone, “ I wish Hilary to un- 
derstand how sorely he will grieve and displease 
me and his sisters if he persists in taking this 
step.” She gathered up her letters as she spoke 
and, rising, left the room. 

“Too bad!” said Conrad, gazing compas- 
sionately after her. “ I never saw mother so 


232 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Upset before, and I wish with all my heart that 
the boy had never set foot in that church.” 

“ I wish, Conrad, you would have a little talk 
with him,” said the gentle voice of Mary. It 
might have more effect than anything we wo- 
men could say.” 

“ Well, I ’ll try,” said Conrad after a mo- 
ment’s reflection. “It can’t do any harm, at 
least. This evening after dinner I ’ll take him 
into my room and,” smiling as he spoke, “ ^ la- 
bor’ with him in a calm, reasonable, brotherly 
fashion. And now,” glancing at the clock, “ it’s 
time I was off. Do try, girls, and be a little 
more cheery this evening. I never had such a 
dismal time at our table before.” 


corinne’s struggle. 


233 


CHAPTER IX. 
corinne’s struggle. 

“ I DECLARE, girls, I almost wish Corinne 
would * get converted,’ if it would improve her 
temper any,” grumbled Conrad as he strolled 
into the parlor where Mary and Harriet were 
sitting on the following Sunday morning. 

“Why, Conrad Markham, you ought to be 
ashamed of yourself !” Harriet exclaimed. 

“ Can’t help it — anything to improve her tem- 
per, say I. She ’s acted like a perfect little fiend 
all this week ; I never saw anything like it. She 
always did have a fearful temper, but she used 
to be very pleasant too when she chose. But 
now — why, she not only snaps your head off if 
you so much as look at her, but she seems to 
take a perverse pleasure in saying the hatefulest 
things she can think of. For instance, Hilary 
and I lingered for a few minutes in the dining- 
room after breakfast to have a quiet little chat 
together. Corinne, who was late, as she ’s apt to 
be Sunday mornings, was finishing her break- 
fast, but the rest of you had all gone up stairs, 
as you know. Hilary and I were standing by 
the window talking about Winnie and her hus- 


234 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


band. They returned yesterday morning, as I 
told you before, and we went round there last 
evening. They have lovely rooms, and we had 
a very pleasant time with them and with Sophie, 
who is glad enough to be at home again, I fancy. 
Well, in the midst of our talk, and without the 
least provocation on our part, Corinne suddenly 
flew at us like a little hornet. She was so spite- 
ful that I turned upon her and gave her such a 
castigation as she never had before in her life, I 
fancy. I told her in very plain words just what 
I thought of her, how conceited she was, how 
bad-tempered, and how she thought more of Co- 
rinne Markham than she did of any one else in 
the world !” 

O Conrad, how could you say such things 
to her?” exclaimed Harriet in dismay. ^‘Poor 
Corinne! You can’t really have such an opin- 
ion of her as that.” 

“ Do n’t be too sure of that, Harriet. She ’s 
one of the faultiest characters I know, and she 
grows worse every day.” 

“You might have tempered justice with a 
little mercy, I think. For — ” 

“ It was no time for mercy. She deserved a 
thorough castigation, and she got it. I ’m seven 
years older than she is and I wont stand the lit- 
tle chit’s impertinence any longer.” 

“ She seems very nervous and upset since she 


corinne’s struggle. 235 

heard Dr. Truman,” said Harriet. “ I wish mo- 
ther had never asked her to go.” 

“Well, she may have heard some whole- 
some truths there. I dare say she did. At any 
rate, she heard the truth from me, ‘plain and 
unvarnished,’ this morning !” 

“Did she make you any answer?” asked 
Mary. 

“ No ; it almost seemed to take her breath 
away. She turned quite pale and opened her 
eyes at me as if she was startled at something. 
I saw I was making an impression of some sort 
or other, and thought I ’d drive the nail home ; 
so I kept on, saying the severest things I could 
think of, till all of a sudden she gave a little cry 
and ran sobbing out of the room. Hilary, good- 
natured fellow, wanted to follow and coax her a 
little, but I wouldn’t let him stir a step. Per- 
haps she was vexed that we did n’t invite her to 
call with us last evening, but she was so hateful 
to us all day that I told Hilary not to ask her on 
any account. No, she ’s had indulgence enough ; 
a sharp course of discipline is what she needs 
now.” 

While they talked thus Corinne was stretched 
again upon the lounge in her room, crying as 
she had cried the night she heard Dr. Truman’s 
sermon. Gradually her sobs ceased and she lay 
quite still, lost in thought. 


236 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

'‘So strange,” she murmured, “so strange 
that the very thing that vexed me most in the 
sermon should have been flung in my face by 
my own brother !” 

“But I wont believe it, I wont; so there!” 
she said defiantly after a pause, raising her head 
from the sofa cushion. “ It ’s just hatefulness 
in Conrad. How unkind, how false to tell me 
that I thought more of myself than of any one 
else in the world ! I guess if he were sick or in 
any great trouble he ’d find out how unselfish, 
how self-sacrificing his sister Corinne could 
be.” 

A tear stole down her cheek, and for over an 
hour she sat there weaving one of her morbid 
day-dreams, in which she as usual played the 
central figure. She pictured Conrad sick with 
an infectious disease, and herself nursing him 
and almost falling a victim to the disorder. She 
imagined the scene when, with tears in his eyes, 
he would thank her for the devoted care that 
had saved him and acknowledge the injustice he 
had done her. And thus she dreamed away the 
time till suddenly a sentence from Dr. Truman’s 
sermon flashed through her mind. She started 
from her reverie, she flushed crimson, as if some 
one had given her a blow in the face. 

“Oh, can it be true that I make an idol of 
myself even in my thoughts? I don’t believe 


corinne’s struggle. 237 

that man’s doctrines, but there might be a good 
deal of truth in his sermons nevertheless.” 

Rising, she paced the room with hurried 
steps. That first sensation of stinging shame 
had left her and her mind was full of new hopes, 
new aspirations. 

I ’ll cure myself ; I ’ll conquer my temper 
and begin to live for others from this day. I ’ll 
go about among the poor and sick like Winnie 
and Bessie Aldrich. They shall see that I can 
be as good and devoted as they are, yes, and ten 
times more so, without making a superstitious 
goose of myself. I ’ll give up all my day-dreams ; 
I ’ll live a grand, noble, self-denying life, and 
everybody shall mourn for me when I ’m gone.” 

Poor Corinne! poor, ignorant, vainglorious 
child, as helpless at this very moment of su- 
preme self-conceit as a bird trying to fly with a 
cord tied round its wings! The words were 
scarcely out of her mouth ere unconseiously she 
had begun to weave again one of those day- 
dreams she had forbidden to herself. In imagi- 
nation she was visiting the sick in hospitals, the 
prisoners in jails, and bringing about needed 
reforms by her eloquent appeals to those in au- 
thority. She had become a leader in philan- 
thropic movements, her name was in every 
mouth, and the people in whose skeptical ideas 
she had been brought up could proudly point 


238 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

her out to the ** religious ” portion of the com- 
munity and ask, “ Which of you have done the 
work she has ?” 

The sound of the clock striking twelve 
brought her to herself. Again the startled look 
came into her face, and she struck her hands 
together with a half-angry, half-despairing ges- 
ture. 

“ There it is again ! How am I going to 
cure myself? Even good things seem all mixed 
up with wrong ones. It’s perfectly discoura- 
ging!” 

Corinne’s temperament was an elastic one, 
and though she suffered as keenly as she en- 
joyed, her buoyant disposition, no less than her 
vanity and self-confidence, inclined her to take a 
hopeful view of herself. In her usual mood she 
would have resumed the fight again and again 
before yielding to discouragement ; but she had 
been in a very nervous state for a week, she had 
slept badly the night before, and Conrad’s se- 
vere reproof had excited and wounded her to 
the very quick that morning. 

For some moments she stood there with bent 
head and hands clasped before her. She real- 
ized now — ah, how plainly! — that to think and 
dream of and plan for herself had become the 
habit of her life ; but a knowledge more bitter 
still had come to the girl. Without this con- 


CORINNE’S STRUGGLE. ' 239 

stant reference to self life would become a bar- 
ren thing ; it would seem tasteless, monotonous. 
As she realized this and felt that even the idea 
of giving up the darling habit of her life had 
become repugnant to her, a sullen despair filled 
her heart. She sat down by the table and bur- 
ied her face in her hands. 

As she sat thus the thought of her cousin 
Winnie came into her mind, gentle, yet revi- 
ving, as if a soft spring breeze that had been at 
play among the apple-blossoms had tenderly 
kissed her cheek. She felt an intense longing 
to go to her, not that she wished for her ad- 
vice — no, she would keep the secret of her strug- 
gles, of the bitter self-knowledge that had come 
to her, locked up in her breast ; but she wished 
to be in her company, to feel again the pressure 
of that dear little hand, and to look into those 
clear blue eyes, so loving, so tender and true. 
Ah, Winnie loved her in spite of her faults; 
Winnie would love her, she felt assured, even if 
she knew the innermost secrets of her heart, 
only — she should never know. 

“ I ’ll go round there after dinner,” she 
thought, “ and have a little visit with her before 
she goes to Sunday-school ; and as I do n’t care 
to meet Conrad just now, I ’ll slip out before our 
bell rings and walk till it ’s time to go to Win- 


240 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

She felt somewhat revived already at the 
thought of meeting her cousin, and with hasty 
hands began to take off her morning dress. Co- 
rinne was naturally quick in her movements, 
and soon she stood there in her pretty green 
suit, as trim and dainty a little figure as usual, 
but looking with a dissatisfied air at the reflec- 
tion of herself in the glass. 

How pale I am and how heavy my eyes 
look, as if I had had a fit of sickness ! Winnie 
will surely ask me what ’s the matter. 

A good long walk will make me feel better 
perhaps. Now it’s time to start, for that bell 
will ring in a few minutes.” 

She put her head out of the door to reconnoi- 
tre, then stole softly into the hall. Nobody was 
in sight, but she heard voices in Aunt Glory’s 
room, and listening for a moment made out that 
one of them was Hilary’s. The old woman was 
confined to her bed with rheumatism, and no 
doubt he had gone in to make his former nurse 
a little visit. 

“And to ‘talk religion’ with her, I suppose,” 
thought Corinne, while a smile, half mocking, 
half sad, flitted across her pale face. “ He and 
Aunt Glory are the only ‘ saints ’ on these prem- 
ises.” 

Softly she stole down the stairs, but paused a 
moment in the dining-room to tell Linda that 


corinne’s struggle. 


241 


she was going to Mrs. Chesnutwood’s ; for though 
she would have taken real satisfaction in alarm- 
ing Conrad, who might then have repented of 
his severity, she did not wish the others, and 
especially her mother, to be frightened about 
her. 

She walked for over half an hour before turn- 
ing her steps in the direction of Winnie’s home. 
It was a beautiful February day. The air, 
though bright with sunshine. Was pleasantly 
crisp and exhilarating, and Corinne would have 
enjoyed her walk very much had she not felt so 
dragged out and a little faint besides for want of 
the dinner she had been accustomed to take at 
that time. She was glad enough when she 
reached the house where Clive had taken rooms. 
It was a large apartment-house, situated in a 
quiet, pleasant street, shaded here and there by 
tall trees. Corinne had never been there, as her 
cold had confined her to the house till within a 
few days of Winnie’s marriage. 

Clive’s rooms were on the third story. The 
“ parlor ” door was just opposite the stairs. Co- 
rinne rang the bell with a hand that trembled a 
little, and in a minute Winnie herself appeared. 

“ Why, my darling girl,” she said, her sweet 
face lighting up with pleasure, “ how glad I am 
to see you !” 

Drawing her in she gave her the warmest of 
16 


Winnie I.orlnier'8 Vieit. 


242 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

embraces. Corinne tried to smile, but the tears 
ran down her cheeks, and she was fain to hide 
her face on Winnie’s shoulder. 

“ I had no business to come,” she sobbed out. 
“ I was too nervous to come, but I longed to see 
you. You ’ll think I ’m a perfect baby, Winnie. 
I do n’t know what ’s got into me this week.” 

“I’m so glad you ’ve come !” said Winnie. 
She and Clive had had a long talk with Hilary 
that morning ‘on their way home from church, 
and had guessed pretty accurately what was the 
matter with poor Corinne. “ You need n’t see a 
soul besides myself till you feel better. Sophie 
is in the dining-room and Clive in the study 
giving ‘ a last look ’ at the Sunday-school lesson. 
Come right into our dear little spare room — 
that’s a luxury we were determined to allow 
ourselves — and you shall sleep there every time 
you come to see us.” 

Leaving the parlor she led Corinne along the 
hall to a little nutshell of a room in whieh the 
color of pink predominated. The walls looked 
as if a sunset flush had been faintly reflected 
upon them, the cretonne eurtains draping the 
window had blossoms of the same hue on a 
background of delicate gray, and sprays of pink 
morning-glories were painted upon the pretty 
toilet-set. The furniture was willow — the bed, 
the little washstand and bureau, and a tiny table 


CORINNE’S STRUGGLE. 


243 


standing in one corner. Everything was small, 
to match the size of the room, and everything 
dainty and pretty and spotlessly neat. A warm, 
bright rug nearly covered the stained floor. 

“ Oh, what a sweet little room !” said Corinne, 
gazing about her. Then she sighed involunta- 
rily, and Winnie, putting her arm around her, 
said in a caressing tone, “ You shall see the other 
rooms by-and-by, but now I want you to lie down 
and rest. Have you had your dinner?” 

“No, Winnie, I did not want any. Now, 
child, don’t you dare to get anything to eat, 
for—” 

“ Hush ! no threats, please,” laughed Winnie, 
laying her soft hand over Corinne’s mouth. “ It 
wont be a bit of trouble to me, only a pleasure, 
and you must take what I bring you. Why, you 
look as if you ’d had a fit of sickness ! Now, Co- 
rinne, you ’ve made me mind you often enough ; 
let me be your ‘little mother’ to-day and just 
mind me.” 

Corinne submitted, as she would not have 
done had she not felt so weak and worn out. 
She changed her walking-dress for the warm 
wrapper and shawl Winnie gave her, and turn- 
ing back the white counterpane laid herself 
down upon the little bed. Winnie drew a cov- 
ering over her made of white cheese-cloth, very 
light as well as soft and warm. 


244 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

“ Do n’t dare to go to sleep till you ’ve had 
something to eat,” she said, smiling. “ It wont 
take me ten minutes to get it ready.” 

“ Just a cup of tea,” pleaded Corinne, “ and a 
bit of bread and butter. I can’t eat much, Win- 
nie.” 

“ Well, I wont force you to eat much,” said 
Winnie kindly as she left the room. 

In less than ten minutes the lunch was 
brought in — a poached egg on toast, some angel- 
cake and white grapes, and a cup of steaming 
hot tea, and all prepared and served in Winnie’s 
own dainty fashion. 

Do you recognize your own china?” she 
said, smiling, as she placed the tray beside her 
cousin. '‘I think so much of that lovely little 
tea-set, and Clive and Sophie admire it very 
much.” 

“ I ’m glad you like it,” said Corinne, return- 
ing the smile; “but, Winnie, why did you get 
up such a lunch for me ?” 

“ It ’s not much of a lunch, I ’m sure,” replied 
her cousin. “ I would have brought you more, 
only I was afraid it would take away what appe- 
tite you had. Now do please me by eating every 
mouthful of it.” 

And Corinne, brightened up by Winnie’s 
pleasant talk and gentle ways, did eat every 
mouthful she had brought her, and felt some- 


corinne’s struggle. 


245 


what revived by the meal. After she had fin- 
ished her lunch Winnie drew the covering over 
her and tucked her in with a motherly air. 

“ Now go to sleep, you poor, tired child !” 
she said, laying her soft hand on her forehead. 
Corinne suddenly clasped the little hand and 
carried it to her lips. 

“ O Winnie, how good you Ve always been to 
me !” she said, while a sob broke from her in 
spite of herself. Then, as if ashamed of her 
emotion, she hurriedly added, “ Do n’t let me 
keep you from Sunday-school. If I can just lie 
here and rest till you get back — ” 

“ You shall lie here all the afternoon and all 
night, if you feel like it,” Winnie replied, kiss- 
ing her tenderly. Now do n’t say another word, 
but just compose yourself to sleep.” 

Too exhausted and drowsy to talk any more, 
Corinne closed her eyes obediently, and Winnie, 
first drawing the window-curtains to darken the 
room, went out, softly shutting the door behind 
her. She and Sophie finished the work between 
them, and then Winnie went to the study, a 
cosey little room with a fireplace on one side in 
which a great lump of cannel coal was burning. 
The prevailing tint in the papering of the room 
was terra cotta ; a handsome rug, corresponding 
to that in the adjoining parlor, nearly covered 
the floor. There was a porti(^re between the 


246 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

two rooms, and Clive, hearing the bell and not 
wishing to be disturbed just then, had softly 
drawn the curtain to screen himself from view. 
He looked round smiling as Winnie’s sweet face 
peeped into the room. 

“ Come in, pet ; my lesson is prepared now, 
and if it wasn’t, you or Sophie either would 
never disturb me. Who was your visitor? I 
fancied for a moment that I heard Corinne’s 
voice, but thought afterwards that I must have 
been mistaken.” 

Yes, it was Corinne, poor girl,” said Win- 
nie, and then told Clive what had passed be- 
tween them. '‘She looks pale and worn, as if 
she had lain awake for nights,” she added with 
tears in her eyes. “ I ’m afraid she ’ll be down 
sick if this goes on much longer.” 

“ Poor girl ! there is evidently a fearful strug- 
gle going on in her mind,” said Clive. “ I only 
wish she might open her heart to you, my dar- 
ling.” 

“ Perhaps she may in the course of the after- 
noon ; for I have made up my mind, Clive, to 
stay at home with her, if you are willing.” 

“ But what will Mrs. Aldrich say to have you 
absent another Sunday?” asked her husband 
playfully, but looking somewhat sober, for he 
was loth to leave his little bride behind him. 

“ She would say I was right, I ’m sure,” Win- 


corinne’s struggle. 


247 

nie replied. O Clive, if you eould see that poor 
girl’s face ! I am real sorry not to go, but — ” 

“ And I am real sorry not to have my little 
wife’s company, and yet I think she is right my- 
self,” said Clive. “ Stay at home by all means, 
and do what you can for poor Corinne. If she 
will not speak to you of her own accord of her 
secret trouble, do n’t be afraid to say some little 
word to her. She may be longing for it, and 
.even if she repulses you now, she may lay it up 
in her heart and feel grateful to you after- 
wards.” 

“ O Clive, I am too timid about speaking to 
others ; that is a great fault of mine. I ’m so 
afraid of doing harm, and always wish that some 
one older and wiser than I might talk with them. 
But I will try and say some little word to Co- 
rinne. She really seems to cling to me now; 
before she always wanted me to lean on her. 
But here comes Sophie ready for Sunday-school. 
She offered to stay with Corinne, dear, good girl ; 
but I thought the child would feel more at home 
with me, we ’ve always been so much together.” 

It was nearly five o’clock when Corinne, 
dressed again in her walking-suit, entered the 
little parlor where Winnie sat quietly reading. 
She still looked pale and languid, though some- 
what revived by the sleep she had taken. 


248 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

“Ah, there you are, my dear!” said Winnie, 
laying down her book with a smile. “ I have 
been twice to your door, but did not hear a 
sound. Well, you look a little better than you 
did. I guess your sleep did you good.” 

“Yes, I feel a little better,” said Corinne, 
sinking into a capacious arm-chair. She seemed 
so different from the bright, vivacious girl who 
bade Winnie good-by twelve days before that 
her cousin’s heart ached to see her. 

“ How lovely your parlor is !” she said, ga- 
zing about her with languid interest. Formerly 
she would have flitted from room to room like a 
butterfly, as attracted by every pretty, dainty 
thing as that bright- winged insect is by a flower. 
Now she did not seem to care to stir from the 
seat in which she had ensconced herself. “I 
suppose you are just as happy as you can be, 
Winnie,” she went on. 

“ Yes, I am very happy,” said Winnie ab- 
sently, for her thoughts were with Corinne rath- 
er than with herself. 

“ Now why do you look at me so, my dear?” 
asked her cousin a little pettishly. “You make 
me fairly nervous.” 

“ Because,” said Winnie, unable to keep back 
her tears, “ I cannot bear to see you in such 
trouble, my dear Corinne. If only — ” 

“ Trouble ? What trouble ? Why should you 


corinne’s struggle. 249 

or any one else take it for granted that I ’m in 
trouble, I ’d like to know?” 

Winnie trembled a little, for Corinne’s voice 
had much of its old defiant ring, but her affec- 
tionate solicitude for her cousin got the better 
of her timidity. 

“ Corinne, Corinne, you cannot blind those 
who love you so dearly ! Ever since you heard 
Dr. Truman’s sermon you have had this trouble 
on your mind; and no one but Jesus can give 
you comfort and peace. Did you ever read his 
words, ‘ Come unto me, all ye that labor and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest ’ ?” 

“ So you have been talking me over between 
you !” exclaimed Corinne, starting up, her pale 
face flushed now with nervous irritation, “ think- 
ing of me as a possible convert perhaps ? Now, 
Winnie, you and the rest must just understand 
that I wont be forced into your opinions this 
way. As for Dr. Truman, he just reminds me 
of one of those old inquisitors we read of. I 
really think he enjoys torturing people.” 

“ Not so, Corinne ; he is like a kind and skil- 
ful surgeon who does not hesitate to use the 
probe and the knife when the patient’s condition 
requires it.” 

This time it was the voice of Clive, who had 
entered while Corinne was speaking. The girl 
was struck by his remark more than she cared 


250 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

to own, and as she stood considerably in awe of 
him, she felt a little taken aback that he should 
have heard her speaking to Winnie in such a 
way. Nevertheless it was in a voice of childish 
petulance, though more subdued in tone than a 
moment before, that she replied after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation. 

So you are ready to attack me too, Mr. Ches- 
nutwood ! Two against one is hardly fair, I 
think. Sophie will be coming in to ‘ labor ’ with 
me next, I suppose.” 

“ No, Corinne,” said Clive in the same calm, 
grave tone in which he had spoken before, 
“ since you do not wish to hear the truth, we 
will not force it upon you. That was not our 
Saviour’s way when he was upon earth, nor is it 
his way now. When he knocks at the door of a 
heart it must open to him of its own accord. He 
will not break the lock and force his way in. 
And if it remains obstinately closed against him 
he goes sadly away. Nor will we force this 
subject upon you ; we will not resume it again 
unless you wish to talk with us. Sit down, Co- 
rinne; you look as if you needed rest. How 
are they all at your house ?” 

“ They are all well, thank you,” said Corinne 
in rather a forlorn voice, for his words had 
struck a chill to her heart, and she felt somehow 
as if she were a friendless, deserted creature. 


corinne’s struggle. 


251 

“that is, all but Aunt Glory. She has rheu- 
matism and is confined to her bed.” 

“Ah, yes, poor Aunt Glory!” said Winnie. 
“ Hilary told us about her last evening. I ex- 
pect to come round to your house to-morrow and 
will certainly make her a call. But why don’t 
you sit down, my dear Corinne?” 

“ I think I would better go home now,” said 
the poor girl ; “ mother will be expecting me, 
and I ’m sure I Ve given you trouble enough for 
one day.” 

“ No, your mother will not be expecting you,” 
replied Clive, “ for I told Hilary that we should 
keep you to tea. He is coming round himself, 
and will go with us to church afterwards. Then, 
if you wish, we can leave you at your home on 
the way,” 

“ Oh, I hope she wont stir out of this house 
till to-morrow,” said Winnie. “ I want her to 
have a good night’s rest before she goes out 
again.” 

“ Thank you very much, but I must go home 
to-night, dear Winnie,” said Corinne, and she 
spoke so decidedly, though in a grateful, affec- 
tionate tone, that her ’cousin did not urge the 
point any further. 

“ Sit down now, at all events, and rest your- 
self,” she replied ; “ or if you like, you can come 
into the kitchen with me. I ’m going to get tea.” 


252 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Yes, I ’d like to go with you,” said Corinne, 
throwing her arm around her cousin. “ Where 
is Sophie ?” she added. 

“ She stayed after prayer-meeting to talk with 
two of her little scholars,” said Clive. “ Ah, here 
is Hilary!” a bright smile lighting up his face 
as the dear boy entered, his cheeks rosier than 
ever from the frosty air. Winnie’s greeting too 
had a tender gladness in it that Corinne well 
understood. 

They look upon him as a white sheep and 
me as a black one,” she thought bitterly. Then 
her heart smote her as she reflected, “ But how 
kind they are to me, so much kiiider than such 
a hateful little thing deserves! Oh, I wish I 
was as good as Hilary !” 

As she reflected thus she looked at her bro- 
ther with so much of the old affection in her 
eyes that he was emboldened to stoop and kiss 
her, an act he had not ventured on for a week. 

“Well, little sister, we’ve missed you at 
home. Mother told me to be sure and bring 
you back this evening.” 

Sophie arrived a moment later, and erelong 
the little party were gathered around a cosey 
tea-table spread with delicious bread and butter, 
cold meat, preserves, and cake. 

“Take your seat behind the tea-things, So- 
phie,” said Winnie, smiling, as she saw her sis- 


corinne’s struggle. 


253 


ter-in-law preparing to slip into another. “ She 
is housekeeper for this month, Corinne. I 
wished to take some lessons of her before I be- 
gan my brief reign.” 

“ And do you really think you can carry out 
that arrangement ?” asked Corinne. 

“ Certainly,” said Clive, “ and we expect to be 
a most happy family.” Then there was a pause, 
and with bent head he asked God’s blessing on 
the meal and that they might be given thankful 
hearts for all his mercies. It was the first grace 
poor Corinne had ever listened to ; but though 
she did not join in the petition, no scoffing 
thought came into her mind, as it certainly 
would have done a week before. 

She took little part in the conversation that 
followed, but sat quiet and subdued. As for 
Hilary, he felt as if he had been suddenly trans- 
ported into a little earthly paradise. For days 
he had been enduring cold looks, snubs, or sar- 
castic speeches from the mother and sisters 
whom he loved so dearly and who had always 
been so tender of him, and their behavior had 
nearly broken his heart. What a change it was 
to be seated at this table, to look into the kind, 
loving faces of Winnie and her husband and sis- 
ter, and to feel assured of their sympathy in the 
new life upon which he had entered ! And Co- 
rinne, though very quiet, was gentle , and kind ; 


254 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

a sweet hope for her began to spring up in the 
boy’s heart, and his face fairly grew luminous at 
the thought that this beloved sister might soon 
be a partaker of the joys that had come to him. 

The conversation at the table turned natu- 
rally upon the subjects that had engrossed the 
thoughts of these four young disciples of Jesus 
that day. Hilary had that afternoon become a 
member of a Bible class and was full of enthusi- 
asm for his teacher. He described his methods 
of instruction, how fresh and original they were, 
what a new light they seemed to throw upon the 
lesson, and how all the boys looked up to him 
and loved him. 

Then Sophie began to speak of her little 
scholars and the interest they had taken in the 
sermon that morning. Every once in a while 
Dr. Truman would preach to the children, and 
in such a way as to delight and instruct not only 
the little ones, but the older members of the 
church and congregation also. 

Corinne was determined to manifest no inter- 
est in Dr. Truman’s preaching, but she could 
not help being attracted by Sophie’s account of 
her scholars and the artless remarks they had 
made, and wished in her secret heart that she 
too had heard the children’s sermon.” She 
was glad when they all began to discuss it, for 
now she could learn things Dr. Truman had said 


corinne’s struggle. 


255 


without asking any questions herself ; and the 
conversation flowed so simply and naturally that 
she did not feel that the others were “talking 
at ” her. 

Clive however was quietly observant of the 
girl, and his quick, bright eye, keener than any 
other at the table, often glanced in that direc- 
tion. He marked the wistful look that crossed 
her face from time to time, the trembling of her 
lips, and the half-suppressed sigh that told of a 
burden weighing upon the heart. Matters were 
approaching a crisis with her, of that he felt as- 
sured ; but how would the struggle end ? Would 
she open her heart to the Saviour, or turn away 
in her wilfulness and go back to the old careless, 
self-indulgent life, never again perhaps to listen 
to the Spirit’s warnings or entreaties? Clive 
trembled at the thought, and many a silent 
prayer went up from his heart as he sat there. 

When tea was over she offered to help Win- 
nie and Sophie with the dishes, but they would 
not hear of such a thing, and she went listlessly 
back to the parlor. She looked so pale and 
worn as she sank into the big arm-chair again 
that Hilary, always thoughtful, offered to take 
her home at once. 

“You look as if you needed to be in bed, sis- 
ter, and I can meet Clive and the girls at the 
church, you know.” 


256 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

Corinne gladly accepted, for she longed now 
to be at home. Winnie heard she was going, 
and leaving her dishes hurried into the little 
spare room where Corinne was puting on her 
hat and jacket. 

“ I ’m so tired, dear,” she said ; “ you wont be 
offended, will you?” 

“No, my darling, no ; only I do wish you 
would stay here and let me nurse you up.” 

“ Thank you, dear, but I think I would better 
go home. 1 11 take care of myself, do n’t fear.” 

When she came to say good-by to Winnie 
she put both arms round her neck and held her 
tightly for a minute. 

“I’m sorry I spoke so crossly to you this 
afternoon,” she whispered ; “ but I ’m so nervous 
this week; it sets me wild if anybody says a 
word to me about my feelings.” 

“And I wont say a word,” said Winnie, re- 
turning the embrace as warmly, “ only — only — ” 
she faltered out, as if afraid of being repulsed, 
“would you accept a little Bible from me, my 
dear Corinne ? I believe you have none of your 
own.” 

She offered the little book with a pleading 
gesture. Corinne took it, smiling, and slipped 
it into her pocket. 

“Thank you very much,” she said. “ It’s a 
book every one ought to know something about. 



Winnie Loriiner’s Visit. Page 256. 


Wl- 

f> ’ : yt- 





"#■ ■■ . "aiiS' 


if 


>j«; 


» V 


An*' * 


riJ’' 


fe 


a '-‘.^wia* •'£: ; £':W*'.-'V'v>f-i 

' .*,t'.f'* '^, .!♦* *5i/ytV-_ »-Tv, ^ . Tj>.,t . to 

I ^ «• i •- 2*. '■' ' ■' tTSK'«w. . J 

' 1 ?^ , ir» ', 


*♦ 


1. 

■ ' '^'^. ■■• ■'" • '•■••■■ 

- ; • t.’v' \ ■ r .' y. , 

»vf 


‘ , • »■■ '/ * I 

V-' • • 


1 , 

■ybzL ^ ..;'v sV 


■e^ 


* ■ ^1 




D^V' I J»W\ jrivr w' .. 

V** • « i 

.... ,'v ^ 


i ♦ 












4 ' . 


• 1^1 

# * [S.H / r 

‘I . 






-' "r) :;4- 

.^. _ v A' - 

i- .^. i’ 

. ^:!.* ?• 


I 

I ) ji 



«vj( 4 i 

A' 








P- 



:.v ' 




h ■ ' - ■ • ■' -f J'Wl, " 


i. t 


ll- ' ■' 





f'' . . — • . 

















corinne’s struggle. 


257 


I ’ll read it with pleasure, though of course you 
can’t expect me to believe everything it says.” 

“ Read it, my dear Corinne, and it will speak 
for itself,” said Winnie. 

Corinne took leave of Clive and Sophie and 
set off with Hilary in a more cheerful frame of 
mind. She had no idea, of course, what a treas- 
ure she was carrying home with her, yet there 
was certainly a hope in her heart that the little 
volume might prove a help to her in leading a 
nobler life. 

“ Mother herself said that Jesus was one of 
the noblest and purest of men,” she reflected, 
“and seemed to think that his precepts were 
worth studying. I ’ll read this little book 
through and see what I can get out of it. What 
was that passage Winnie quoted? — something 
about putting on Christ’s yoke and finding rest. 
That seems a queer combination of things and 
I ’d like to find out what it means. I wonder 
where the passage is. I was too nervous and 
too upset to take in much of what she said.” 


Winnie Lortmer's Visit. 


17 


258 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 

“ I ’VE a great mind, Corinne, to insist upon 
your going with Conrad and Harriet. Your 
father and I will not be at home till late, Mary 
has an article to finish, and ” — a cloud crossing 
her face as she spoke — “ Hilary will probably 
take himself off, as he did last Friday evening. 
It will do you good to hear a good play. I ’m 
tired of seeing you mope round the house as 
you Ve been doing for the last two weeks.” 

‘‘ I do n’t care about going to the theatre this 
evening, mother,” said Corinne, with difiiculty 
keeping the “ edge ” out of her voice. “ It 
would tire me all out. I ’ve that novel to finish, 
and — ” 

“And Harriet and I would be much more 
comfortable without her, in the sweet temper 
she ’s in !” interposed Conrad in a decided voice. 
“ If you are resolved to have her go, mother, 
you must find some other escort for her. / do n’t 
propose to have my whole evening spoiled by 
her vixenish airs.” 

Corinne turned upon him as she had not 
dared to turn upon her mother. 

“ A nice, gentlemanly way to talk about your 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 


259 

sister! You needn’t worry, Mr. Conrad, for I 
would n’t go with you for anything. Your com- 
pany is as disagreeable to me as mine is to you.” 

“ Dear little dove, do hear it coo !” said Con- 
rad mockingly. There now, run off up stairs 
and cry. Mother, if you do n’t send that girl off 
to a boarding-school pretty soon I shall quit the 
house in sheer desperation. It ’s growing per- 
fectly unbearable.” 

Corinne, who was at the head of the stairs 
by this time, put her hands to her ears that she 
might not hear anything more, and ran on till 
she reached her own room. She shut the door, 
locked it, and sitting down gazed before her for 
a few moments with blank, tearless eyes. 

“What shall I do!” she exclaimed at last, 
fairly wringing her hands in despair. “I’m 
growing worse all the time ; everybody is get- 
ting to hate me, and no wonder ! Conrad wants 
to get rid of me, and oh, I do wish I ’d never 
been born ! 

“ I can’t make myself good — it ’s no use ; and 
how can I give up and do as that Book tells me ? 
It asks too much; I never saw anything like it ! 
I do love the world. Ah me ! what a bright, 
happy world it was to me before I heard Dr. 
Truman’s sermon ! And I love my own wa}^, 
and I ’ve boasted so to mother and the rest that 
nothing those people said could ever affect me. 


26o WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

And now to show myself so weak, to grieve mo- 
ther and nearly all my friends, and to give up 
the opinions in which I Ve been brought up for 
these, so strange, so unnatural ! I can’t do it, I 
can’t do it ! And yet, what if that Book should 
be true !” she exclaimed, clenching her hands. 
“ Why did God make it so hard for people to do 
right ?” 

Again she sat silent for a while, with that 
despairing yet hard and defiant look upon her 
face. Then her expression changed ; she sprang 
up as if frightened at something, and began to 
put on her jacket and hat. Her student-lamp 
was already lighted, for she had meant to spend 
the evening in her own room, and had gone 
down to the parlor for the novel she had left 
there. 

The recollection of Clive’s words had come 
to her, those words that had struck a chill to her 
heart when she heard them. Could it be, she 
had asked herself again and again, that Christ 
was knocking at the door of her heart, and that 
she was obstinately closing it against him ? And 
again and again she had put the thought away 
from her, telling herself that such a thing must 
be impossible, but now it had returned with a 
power, a solemnity, that overawed and filled her 
with fear. 

Corinne had not read the beautiful story of 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 


261 


Christ’s life and death without being attracted 
towards him ; yet, after all, that had not been 
the uppermost feeling in her mind. She had 
curled her lip scornfully over the account of the 
miracles, saying to herself that they were only 
religious fables, and what she had sought for 
most eagerly were rules by which to regulate 
her own life. 

She could not help being struck by the un- 
earthly beauty of these rules, yet more and 
more her haughty spirit revolted against them. 
What ! must she give up all her ambitious 
dreams, and aspire only to be meek, humble, 
willing to be neglected and overlooked even 
if she were sacrificing health and life in the 
service of others ? She who had loved the world 
so dearly, must she give up the pleasures of 
which she was so passionately fond, and tread 
daily a path of self-denial, of watchfulness and 
prayer? She looked the thing squarely in the 
face, for she was too honest to try to explain 
away these commandments. Of the joy and 
peace brought by the reception of Christ into 
the soul, of the love that pours itself out in self- 
forgetful ministry to others, she of course knew 
nothing, and the life she was contemplating ap- 
peared to her now unutterably dreary. She 
tried to persuade herself that Christ’s demands 
were unreasonable, and yet again and again the 


262 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

question came to her, ‘‘ What if every word in 
this book is true, and I should be shutting up 
my heart against the Saviour?” She was waver- 
ing, hesitating — a most melancholy and critical 
condition for a soul ! — and every hour growing 
harder, more rebellious and defiant. Then 
came the recollection of Clive’s words, and then 
this strange experience, this feeling as if an in- 
visible Presence were overshadowing her and 
bringing the truth home to her soul, and in 
that moment she knew whose Voice was calling 
her! 

When Hilary came out of his room he was 
surprised to see her hurrying towards him, 
dressed to go out, and so pale and agitated she 
could hardly speak. 

“ Take me with you,” she managed to bring 
out, laying her hand upon his arm. “Ask no 
questions, but take me with you.” 

Hilary clasped the trembling hand firmly in 
his, and they went down stairs together in si- 
lence. If the whole family had interposed to de- 
tain Corinne, they could not have stopped her. 
She was as resolute as Christian when fleeing 
from the City of Destruction. 

But as it happened, Mary was in the study, 
and the rest of the family in their rooms dress- 
ing to go out. Mrs. Markham, as displeased 
with Corinne as she was anxious about her, had 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 263 

determined to leave the girl to herself for that 
evening and have a serious talk with her on the 
following day. 

Not a word was exchanged between Hilary 
and Corinne on their way to the church. But as 
they entered the lecture-room, where the prayer- 
meetings were held, she whispered, 

Let us sit near the door, Hilary.” 

“ Just as you like, dear,” said her brother, 
and they took a seat in the back part of the 
room. 

Corinne was too agitated to pay much atten- 
tion to anything around her at first, and sat with 
downcast eyes, trying to recover her composure. 
By degrees she grew more calm, but though 
when the opening prayer was made she bowed 
her head for the first time in her life, she 
heard scarcely a word of the petition. Her 
brain, her heart, seemed in a whirl of emotion, 
and she could hardly understand her own feel- 
ings. But as soon as Dr. Truman rose to read 
the portion of Scripture he had selected her 
attention became riveted upon him. How star- 
tled was she when she heard these words, “ Be- 
hold, I stand at the door and knock; if any 
man hear my voice and open the door, I will 
come in to him, and will sup with him, and he 
with me.” 

To the tender, solemn appeal that followed 


264 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

the reading of the Scripture she listened as if 
fearful that she might lose a single word. Hith- 
erto she had been moved rather by fear than 
love, but now a voice unutterably tender seemed 
pleading for admittance, a voice that stirred the 
fountain of tears within her and almost broke 
her heart. Again and again she dashed the 
tears from her eyes, and longed to be in her 
own room, that she might weep unrestrained 
and pour out all the trouble and longing of her 
soul in prayer. 

After Dr. Truman had finished, she sat lost 
in thought, listening mechanically to what was 
going on around her without really taking it in. 
Would the meeting ever end and she be at lib- 
erty to seek her home ? Even as she asked her- 
self the question the preacher’s voice was heard 
again, and she looked up eagerly. He gave out 
the hymn, “ Behold a Stranger at the door,” and 
then made a tender appeal to those who had not 
yet yielded their hearts to the Saviour. If they 
wished the prayers of God’s people, would they 
not manifest it by rising while the hymn was 
being sung ? 

“ Oh, I cannot do it, I cannot, before all these 
people !” thought Corinne, trembling from head 
to foot. But hark ! the hymn was beginning, 
and how sweetly yet how solemnly the words 
and music fell upon her ear. 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 


265 


“ Behold a Stranger at the door ! 

He gently knocks, has knocked before. 

Has waited long — is waiting still ; 

You treat no other friend so ill.” 

Corinn® had buried her face in her handker- 
chief, and her tears were flowing freely. Hilary 
dared not speak to her ; he covered his own wet 
eyes with his hand and silently prayed for his 
sister. 

“ Oh ! lovely attitude — He stands 
With melting heart and outstretched hands, 
f Oh ! matchless kindness — and he shows 
This matchless kindness to his foes !” 

Corinne heard others rising about her, but had 
not courage to follow their example. Sympathi- 
zing eyes were turned in that direction, and other 
hearts besides those who loved her best were 
praying for the girl. 

“ But will He prove a Friend indeed? 

He will — the very Friend you need ; 

The Friend of sinners — yes, ’tis he. 

With garments dyed on Calvary.” 

“Yes. He is the * very Friend I need,’ and I 
wont wait, but yield my heart to Him here and 
now !” thought Corinne. And with the thought 
she rose, and stood, still silently weeping, while 
they sang the following verse : 

“ Rise, touched with gratitude divine. 

Turn out His enemy and thine — 

That soul-destroying monster. Sin — 

And let the Heavenly Stranger in.” 


266 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

As they sang the last line of the verse Dr. 
Truman rose, and in a voice that trembled with 
emotion said, “ Let us pray.” A number had 
risen besides Corinne, some of them souls for 
whom he had been praying for years, and the 
faithful pastor’s heart was full to overflowing. 

Corinne had sunk into her seat and joined 
with all her heart in the prayer that followed. 
She was subdued, humble, penitent, yet a sweet 
happiness and peace was already stealing into 
her heart. For at that moment of childlike self- 
surrender she had indeed “ let the Heavenly 
Stranger in,” and he had become her Friend, her 
Saviour. Trials, conflicts were before her that 
in that sweet moment she did not dream of ; but 
through them all she would be guided, pro- 
tected, upheld by the “Everlasting Arms” that 
had that night opened to receive her. 

When Corinne awoke the next morning it 
was with a sweet feeling of rest and security, 
much as a little child might feel who had been 
lost and found itself unexpectedly clasped in the 
arms of its mother. She lay for a few moments 
thinking, then quietly got out of bed and began 
to dress herself. It was early yet, only a little 
after six, and no one seemed stirring in the 
house. She was happy, happier than she could 
express, and yet there seemed a gentle restraint 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 267 

Upon her; she felt like moving softly, as if 
under the influence of a benign yet controlling 
Presence. 

When she was dressed she sat down by the 
window and opened the Bible Winnie had given 
her. Ere she began to read she breathed a 
humble prayer that God would help her to un- 
derstand his Word and bless it to her soul — she 
felt so ignorant, like a little child just learning 
to walk. 

When she closed the book there was a 
thoughtful expression upon her face, as if she 
were pondering something. ‘‘If thy brother 
hath aught against thee,” she murmured. “ Now 
what does that say to -me ? I Ve been so cross, 
so pert to Conrad for the last two weeks, and he 
so much older than I am too ! Ought I to ask 
his forgiveness as I did Hilary’s last night? 
But ah! it’s so different with Hilary — he’s so 
kind and indulgent, and meets you half way. I 
never asked pardon of Conrad in my life ; and 
I ’m sure he ’s been provoking too. If from this 
time I try to be gentle and kind and pleasant 
in all my ways, wont it answer as well ?” 

For some moments she sat there with this 
struggle going on in her mind. Then saying 
simply, “ I must ask God about it,” she knelt 
down by the bed and offered up a childlike 
prayer for guidance. 


268 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

When she rose the question was decided. 
“ Yes, I must be ‘ reconciled ’ to Conrad first, 
and perhaps it will make it all the easier for me 
to tell him how I Ve become a disciple of Jesus. 
‘ A disciple of Jesus !’ ” she repeated thoughtful- 
ly. “ How much that means, and yet I do believe 
he has forgiven me and that I Ve begun to fol- 
low him. I ought not to find it hard to obey 
such a kind Saviour, and I will try and do every- 
thing that he tells me.” 

The Bible had come to Corinne like a new 
book, and she read it and used its phraseology 
as simply as a heathen convert might have done. 
Her mind was at rest, now, and taking up her 
treasure again, she perused it with fresh eager- 
ness till the rising bell rang. 

Conrad had determined to learn French, and 
every morning he rose early and devoted ati 
hour to the study of the language. Corinne 
knew this, and resolved to see him for a few mo- 
ments before the family should assemble for 
breakfast. She knew where to find him, in her 
father’s study, and, her heart beating uncomfort- 
ably fast now, she made her way thither. 

Her brother was in the habit of studying 
aloud, and Corinne heard his voice ere she 
reached the door. It stood a little ajar. She 
hesitated a moment, then went softly in. Con- 
rad sat by the window, with his back towards 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 269 

her, so intent upon his book that he did not 
notice her entrance. She hesitated a moment, 
then said timidly, “ Good-morning, Conrad,” 

“ Good -morning !” said her brother dryly, 
without looking around. Corinne was tempted 
to run away, for she felt that her task would be 
even harder than she had anticipated. There 
was a suggestion of tears in her voice as she 
said, Conrad, I ’ve come in to tell you that I ’m 
sorry for having been so hateful, so impertinent 
to you for the last two weeks.” 

“Heydey! what’s the meaning of all this?” 
said Conrad in amazement, laying down his 
book and wheeling round in his revolving-chair 
so that he could face her. Then, as he saw her 
nervousness and that she was struggling to keep 
back -the tears, his expression changed, and he 
said in a grave but kind tone, Come and sit 
down by me and let us talk about this.” 

Corinne did as her brother requested, but sat 
with downcast eyes, wishing herself back in her 
own room. It was a new thing to Conrad to 
find her amenable to his authority ; but though 
he quite enjoyed the vsituation, he meant to tem- 
per severity with kindness. He waited a mo- 
ment for her to speak, then said, I ’m glad 
you ’ve come to your senses, Corinne, for you ’ve 
made everybody in this house miserable, and I, 
for my part, had determined that I would not 


270 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

take such impertinence from a younger sister 
any longer. Now don’t begin to cry,” as he 
saw her cheek flush and her lip tremble ; “ I am 
quite ready to forgive you and to overlook the 
past if you will only be careful for the future.” 

Corinne’s naturally high spirit could ill brook 
her brother’s patronizing tone, and she felt 
tempted to get up and leave him. But she 
thought of the Saviour whose child she had be- 
come, and his injunctions to be meek and gen- 
tle and lowly of heart. And it was true what 
Conrad had said ; she had made everybody in 
the house unhappy for the last fortnight, and 
had been particularly cross and impertinent to 
him, often without the least provocation on his 
part. It was right that. she should suffer the 
consequences of her faults, and she tried to bear 
her humiliation patiently ; but she could not 
speak, and her brother asked after a moment’s 
pause, 

“ What has brought you into this better frame 
of mind ? Has mother been talking to you?” 

“No,” faltered out Corinne; “it began with 
Dr. Truman’s sermon.” She hesitated a mo- 
ment, then went on, though in an unsteady 
voice, “ It was all true, Conrad, what you said 
last Sunday morning. I have been very con- 
ceited and wilful and bad-tempered, and cared 
more for myself than for anybody else in the 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 


271 


world. That’s what almost took my breath 
away when you said some of the very things 
that troubled me in Dr. Truman’s sermon ; only 
he thinks all this badness comes from the heart, 
and what he said burned like fire, like fire, Con- 
rad ! I tried to think it could n’t be true ; but 
when you, my own brother, talked so plainly to 
me, it frightened me, and the more I thought of 
it the more convinced I was that you were right 
and that Dr. Truman’s, sermon wouldn’t have 
hit me if I hadn’t deserved it. Then I tried 
hard again and again to make a better girl of 
myself, but instead I kept growing worse all the 
time. I read the New Testament, but I thought 
it asked too much, and I was almost ready to 
give up and go back to v/here I was two weeks 
ago. But something happened last night that 
frightened me, and then — ” 

And then ?” repeated Conrad as she paused 
again for a moment. Corinne turned her eyes, 
full of tears, upon her brother, though a light 
came into her face as she went on. 

“Then I went with Hilary to prayer-meet- 
ing, though I hadn’t thought of such a thing 
before; and Dr. Truman talked about Jesus, 
how he knocked at the door of our hearts, and 
how ready he was to come in if we would only 
let him. And I did open my heart to him, Con- 
rad, and I do believe he has forgiven all my 


2/2 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

sins ; and he ’s so kind, so kind, you can’t think ! 
And I hope by his help to be a very different 
girl.” 

“ Whew !” said her brother, and then there 
was silence for some moments. His young sis- 
ter’s artless story had really touched Conrad, but 
as usual the jesting mood was uppermost with 
him. 

“ So you have ‘ got religion ’ too as well as 
Hilary?” he asked at length. She looked at 
him and saw that the corners of his mouth were 
twitching as if he were amused at something. 
“ Dr. Truman’s church seems to be a regular 
religious trap for our family,” he went on. 

Here are two of them caught in it already, and 
one of them so sure too that she could venture 
in with perfect safety !” Then looking grave 
again, “ And what do you suppose mother and 
the girls will say to you, Corinne ?” 

“ Oh, I feel so bad about them,” said his 
sister, her eyes watering again. ‘‘But I hope 
they ’ll find me such a different girl that by-and- 
by they ’ll be glad instead of sorry.” 

“ Well, I hope so too, and for my part I shall 
be glad of ‘ religion ’ or anything that makes a 
change in you. But we must wait and see how 
you turn out. And now run away, little girl, 
for I want to finish my lesson.” 

He drew her down to him and kissed her, a 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 


273 


rare mark of affection in Conrad. Corinne felt 
that he had been really very kind and consid- 
erate in his odd way, and was truly grateful. 
Her heart yearned over this dear brother, wish- 
ing that he might become a Christian too, 
though she was too timid to say a word, fearing 
that he would think it very presuming in a sis- 
ter so much younger than himself, and that it 
might do harm instead of good. But she left 
her arm around his neck for a moment as she 
said, 

“You are a dear, kind brother, Conrad, and 
I thank you very much. And you 11 be patient 
with me, wont you, for you know I Ve grown up 
in these ways and they’re not so easily over- 
come.” 

“Yes, I’ll be patient with you, and what’s 
more, I ’ll say a good word for you to mother 
and the girls. You sha’n’t be treated as Hilary 
has been for the last two weeks if I can help it. 
It ’s a shame, for he ’s really one of the best 
boys I know.” 

“ Dear, kind fellow ! I ’ve treated him worse 
than anybody else,” said Corinne penitently. 

“ Yes, you have, that ’s a fact ; but of course 
you will be in sympathy with each other now. 
But come, my child, I shall really begin to scold 
if you don’t run away now and leave me to 
study my lesson.” 


Winnie Lorimer’s Visit. 


18 


274 


WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 


He took up his book as he spoke, and with a 
lightened heart Corinne went out of the room. 
Conrad sat musing for a moment with a smile 
on his face. 

“ It really amuses me : here are two of our 
family captured by Dr. Truman already ! Well, 
if ever a girl needed what they call a ‘ change of 
heart,’ Corinne did, that ’s certain ! I only hope 
the ‘ change ’ will last. I ’ve a curiosity to hear 
this Dr. Truman myself. Who knows,” with a 
laugh at the idea, “ but he might get me on the 
‘anxious seat’ before I knew it! No, I’m too 
cool-headed, too wary a fish to be caught in his 
net like those impulsive young creatures, Hilary 
and Corinne.” 

Meanwhile Corinne, again in her own room, 
was praying for this dear brother and for her 
father and mother and sisters, that they too 
might become disciples of Jesus. It seemed 
hard to believe that her mother could ever 
change, she was so decided in her opinions ; yet 
had not Christ himself said that with God all 
things are possible ? Only a week ago how Co- 
rinne would have scouted the idea that she her- 
self could ever become a follower of Jesus; yet 
she had yielded her heart to him, and he had 
accepted her; and now she, who had been one 
of the most wayward and self-seeking of girls. 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 275 

was rejoicing in his forgiveness and trusting in 
him to guide her trembling steps. As she 
thought of this and besought him for her dear 
ones, she felt a sweet hope that they too might 
become partakers of the great salvation. 

Could the veil of the future have been lifted 
for a season how it would have rejoiced her anx- 
ious, loving heart. She would have seen her 
dear father, after weeks of deep distress and 
groping after the light, coming back to the Sa- 
viour from whom he had wandered so long, but 
from whom his heart had never been utterly 
turned away. And as years passed on and 
brought their changes with them, there would 
come a blessed change in the home which for 
years had been filled with the murky atmos- 
phere of unbelief. Under that roof the Saviour 
would be made welcome at last, and would find 
no heart that did not respond to his love. 
“ Doubting Castle would be transformed to a 
home like that of Martha and Mary and Lazarus 
when Christ was on the earth, only he would 
not come for a brief sojourn, but would abide 
with them for ever. 

Could she have looked into the future and 
seen what a blessed gathering-place that home 
would come to be for the children who in time 
would depart and set up household hearths of 
their own! The merry laughter of grandchil- 


276 WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. 

dren would resound through its rooms, and her 
father and mother, their hair silvered now with 
age and a benignant sweetness in their faces, 
outward witness of the divine life within, would 
welcome the little ones and tell them, as they 
clustered about their knees, the sweet old story 
of the Babe of Bethlehem. And Winnie, dear 
Winnie, who had been indeed a little missionary 
of the gospel to that home, she, with her hus- 
band and children, would always be beloved 
guests around the family hearth ; and Sophie 
from her Western home would send Christmas 
greeting to the friends she had come to love so 
dearly. 

Well for Corinne, well for us all, that the veil 
of the future is drawn before our eyes. There 
were hours of darkness and defeat before this 
child, weary years of waiting, ere all her loved 
ones should yield their hearts to Christ. The 
coming joy, revealed before due time, might 
have made her less vigilant, less dependent upon 
her Saviour, the future sorrow might too sorely 
have tried her faith and patience. Well may 
we thank our Heavenly Father for the thought- 
ful love that will allow us to see but one step at 
a time ! 

“ He never sends a joy not meant in love, 

Still less a pain ; 

Our gratitude the sunlight falls to prove. 

Our faith, the rain. 


THE STRUGGLE ENDED. 277 

“ In his hands we are safe. We falter on 
Through storm and mire : 

Above, beside, around us there is One 
Will never tire. 

What though we fall and bruised and wounded lie. 
Our lips in dust ? 

God’s arm shall lift us up to victory ; 

In him we trust. 

‘ For neither life nor death, nor things below 
Nor things above, 

Shall ever sever us, that we should go 
From his great love.” 



THE STORY OF THE TUNES. By Hezekiah Butter- 
worth. 257 pp. i2mo. 18 cuts. |i 75. 

Sketches of the authors of favorite tunes, and incidents 
relating to them. 

THE LIFE OF CHRIST IN PICTURE AND STORY. By 
Mrs. L. S. Houghton. More than 200 cuts. 4to. $i 25. 

A carefully written and sumptuous volume for youth, en- 
riched by many choice engravings. A companion to “The 
Bible in Picture and Story.” 

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. Byjohn Bunyan. 324 pp. 4to. 
129 cuts. 

A new and elegant edition, with the Life of Bunyan. 
Large type and fine illustrations. 

AMERICAN HEROES ON MISSION FIELDS. Edited by 
Rev. H. C. Haydn, D. D. 347 pp. i2nio. |i 25. 

Brief and interesting sketches of lives worthy of loving 
imitation by all American youth. 

COD’S JEWELS ; Their Dignity and Destiny. By Rev. 
W. Y. Fullerton. 125 pp. i6mo. Many cuts. 60 cts. 

Facts concerning the principal known gems, finely ap- 
plied to Christian character and life. 

WINNIE LORIMER’S VISIT. By Chara B. Conant. 277 
pp. i2mo. |i 20. 

The happy influence of a sincere and consistent Christian 
girl in a skeptical family. 

BESIDE STILL WATERS. By Ella Clifford. 255 pp. 
i2mo. 4 cuts. |i. 10. 

A story of modern life, with many wholesome and sug- 
gestive lessons. 

TALKS TO BOYS. By Miss Eleanor A. Hunter. 112 
pp. i2mo. 50 cts. 

Frank and familiar talks about things of deep interest to 
boys, by one who loves them. 

Four books by Mrs. M. D. Brine. 4to. Fully illustrated, 
illuminated covers. 25 cts. each. 

SHADOW AND SUNSHINE-AND JERRY. 

EFFIE’S BIRTHDAY PRESENT. 

NELLIE’S DREAM : AND OTHER STORIES. 

THE STORY OF TOM. 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU ST. and 304 FOURTH AV., NEW YORK. * 


invaluable books 

BY REV. JAS. STALKER, M. A. 


LIFE OF CHRIST. i2mo. i66 pp. 6o cts. 

One of the latest and best lives of our Lord. Highly 
and universally commended. 

“ It presents in a comparatively small space a clear, con- 
cise, and at the same tirtie eloquent account of our Lord’s 
career and teachings.” — Congregationalist. 

THE LIFE OF ST. PAUL. i2mo. 183 pp., with map. 
60 cts. 

A new and admirable work on this exhaustless theme. 

The author avails himself of the best previous writings 
and presents his own fresh thoughts clearly and concisely. 

“The picture of St. Paul’s life and teachings as here 
given comprehends all the salient points and unites them 
into a very striking whole. The treatment is from the ortho- 
dox standpoint, under the light of the best modern criti- 
cism,” — Evangelist. 

“ We do not hesitate to say that no minister’s library is 
complete without it.”— Zion’s Advocate. 

IMAGO CHRISTI. r2mo. 332 pp. $i 50. 

“ The book holds the interest from the beginning to the 
end. The style is terse, clear, .straightforward, adorned only 
by a lack of adornment.” — Christian Inquirer. 

American ^ract pocict^, 

150 NASSAU ST. and 304 FOURTH AV., NEW YORK. 
BOSTON, 54 Bromfield st. ROCHESTER, N. Y., 93 State st. 
CHICAGO, 122 Wabash av. PHILADELPHIA, 1512 Chestnut st. 
CINCINNATI, 176 Elm st. SAN FRANCISCO, 735 Market st. 


INSTRUCTIVE VOLUMES. 


By that eminent author 
REV. E. F. BURR, D. D., LL. D. 

»■ ' ' 

BCCB CCEIiUM. 12ni0. 198 pp. $1. 

“ I have gotten a better idea of Astronomy, as a whole, from It than I ever 
got before from all other sources.” — H oracb; Bushnell. 

PATER MUNDI ; or Modern Science Testifying to tlie Heairenljr 
Father. First Series. l2mo. 307 pp. $1 25. 

“ It discusses with masterly ability the testimonies of Modem Science to the 
being of a God.”— Presbyterian Review. 

PATER MUXDI ; or The Doctrine of Evolution. Second Series. 
12rao. 370 pp. $1 25. 

“A complete and unansweraolc reply to Evolutionism.”— Lutheran Quar- 
terly Review. 


AD FIDEM. 12mo. 388 pp. $1 50. 

“ One of the finest defences of the Christian religion that has been made in 
this country.”- Christian Quarterly. 

TEMPTED TO tJNBElilEF. 12mo. 224 pp. $1. 

“We should like to see it circulating actively from house to house in every 
community.”— Congreoationalist. 

CEliESTIAIi EMPIRES. 12mo. 302 pp. $1 50. 

“ A very grand view of the revelations of science.”— Prof. James Dana. 

UXTVERSAh BEhlEFS. 12mo. 312 pp. $1 25. 

“An able and opportune volume, forcibly setting forth essential troths.”- 
President Mark Hopkins. 

liONG AGO: as Interpreted by the Nineteenth Century. 12mo. 

388 pp. Cloth, $1 50. 

SUPREME THINGS. 12mo. 430 pp. $1 76. 

A fresh and suggestive work, treating in the author’s striking style of many 
of the themes of highest importance— such as the Supreme Book, the Supreme 
Day, Institution, Evil, Good. etc. 

American Tract Society, 

ISO Nassau St., New York; Boston, 54 Bromfield St.; Philadelphia, 1512 Chestnut 
St.; Rochester, 93 State St.; Chicago, 122 Wabash Ave.; Cincinnati, 176 Elm St.; 
San Francisco, 735 Market St. 



TO!^■v^^^■ ■' ■ '*;■ : ■• ■ ' ■ A- - - *■ . -r 




. 'v; >•. f 




‘■^ .'S 
r 


f ' 


1 T 





■f 


t 

I*' * , 


fl'* ' ' il '» / . 


\ ’ • 


: i. 


.’: f 


t 

\ 


-v‘ ■% ’, / 


‘“ S*''. 


..-4 A-ip 


' "*i 


• * 


, ^ ; rv , r;l 




- > >! 



'N« 

t 


A j 


V 


'I 






rn^f'QM 


K ' . • i ' # , >fc i r 


'¥^:- -» ’- 


* I' #, '♦i ’ * 4 T ' 



' Vv'' ' ' ■ "‘^1 i 




* *■: 





Is T i 


.,'' /•' ■ »-P. » '^ , Sr 'V^f JT'H^TO'to J ' x 


'.r^ 1 ^ 1 **- 




r“ i 


. .W'- 

> . /’•i 


\rj 


« ^ 




• > ' m. 


• s 


.i\ 


T'’ ■t''- >.•’*>'■<;'■'- 


.ir- 


\ 

I 


V 


.',0' 


» »* 


{ t 


t' 


fi 






i\ '^ ' 






» • 


1?^ 


r 




VI 


A I 


r. r 


'lO • 






1 *•' 


■ ’ •' 4 * ■’’''' ‘‘■Si/M 

K ■.•. ‘ ^ 

.... A 


'V 






ft?, 


. > 


t 7 > *•* 


ir 


y '^■ 




•. 4 v .•.■»••■ ’ ■■■. 

^ 


f r 


rr 


w 


• V 


. ^ - 


• 4 . 


L-l 


< f 




> .(‘X 




.4 




i — 


W'l. 


Ul 






J 4 


i\V 


4*;^ i»'j^ j 


TM 


i ' '('*': 


f 


% y 






jk> i. 


lu 


V 




V 




^ :• ■' ^ m ' 4 

iTy ;i-r ’i' 


Mi 


f-c,*,<v. 


tr« 




V4'f>S4 






.4 / 


iS:^. 

^>A 




>> 










4 u V 


# 4^ 




i '. 

/'V*?A’ 


f ,, 


^f»S 


!fl 




md 

t--; " '--v 


3«SV:, 


< I. 


'«‘A 


«l .t 


II r < 


Af/ 


f.ii'i 




fj 


» 7 . 




j I 


. .-U^KJ^. -®.V V! ' :■ 


ilfG- ^ V * * .^1 

Vi' -rj* 




'tfk.- 








V^' ,<lr 

kiM il» 


V* ^ 



























































